The Coalition
by dna2000
Summary: Modern MM. See this as a very late submission for the MM AU day! I don't want to give too much away here, but let's just say that Matthew and Mary are once again at odds...
1. Chapter 1

"I think we went beyond our brief," Mary panted as Matthew thrust into her repeatedly, her head lightly hitting the headboard with each movement.

"Do you want to stop?" Matthew asked with as much sarcasm as he could muster between his gritted teeth as he continued his exertions. He could barely think straight and knew for a fact that they were beyond the point of no return. There was no way either of them would be able to stop what they were doing without losing their sanity.

"Don't you dare," Mary breathed, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blade while the other hand grasped at the bedsheets.

Matthew increased his pace, every ounce of energy diverted towards driving himself deeper, harder. His head dropped to her shoulder as he felt himself reaching the edge. Mary, arms loosely draped around him, urged him on with her high-pitched sighs and moans.

Eventually, both came crashing down; Mary's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking that extra millimetre of penetration to prolong her ecstasy, and Matthew released a low growl as he completely spent himself inside her. The sounds of their own heavy breathing rang around their ears as they collapsed side by side, each suddenly aware of how sweaty they were.

"We can't tell anyone about this." Matthew murmured, holding a hand to his chest where his heart was still beating rapidly.

"No shit," Mary retorted, lazily wiping her brow with the back of her hand. God, she needed a shower. "You act as if I'd be planning on shouting about this from the rooftops."

"Well you seemed to be shouting pretty loudly about two minutes ago." Matthew bit back, frustrated by her relentless superiority-complex. In fact, it seemed the only way he could get her to shut up was to..._pleasure_ her in some way. Not that he minded much, of course, although he would never freely admit it to her.

"I'm surprised you could hear me over all the sounds you were making. It was like having a caveman perpetually grunting in my ear." Mary replied. She began shifting across the bed in order to reach over and grab her clothes from the floor. She needed to get dressed and leave as soon as possible. The argumentative banter was creating more sexual tension between them and she didn't think she'd be able to handle another round of what they'd just done. It had been foolish enough to do it in the first place.

Matthew rolled his eyes in exasperation. Nothing had changed, despite what they'd just done. But of course, nothing _could_ change.

He watched as Mary sat on the edge of the bed and shimmied her jeggings on, her back to him. Was she even going to say anything to him before leaving? Didn't they need to discuss the situation a little more?

"I'm going." Mary said abruptly.

Clearly not, then...

"Alright." Matthew replied, unable to keep his tone totally devoid of petulance. It was rather irksome, how she could do _that_ with him and still maintain her prior, dismissive demeanour. He doubted that all was unchanged beneath the surface, however. But what did he care, anyway?

This couldn't change anything, he reminded himself.

* * *

_One month earlier_

"I'm telling you, Mary, this is for the best."

Mary sighed again, much to the annoyance of the middle-aged man stood in front of her. "I'm afraid I still don't understand what you mean when you say that." She replied. Another middle-aged man, slightly to the left of the first one and slightly more aggravated, threw his hands up in the air.

"You'd think all that private schooling and Cambridge would've done some good..." He muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Mary raised an eyebrow. She might be twenty-five years younger than these "political aides" and have much less experience in these matters than they did, but she wasn't about to be talked down to., especially when they were asking her for a huge favour.

"Nigel, please." The first man attempted to placate his irate companion. He turned back to Mary with a face full of determination that told her she wasn't going to get her way. "Look, I'm afraid this isn't up for discussion. Your father is about to enter into a coalition government with his political foe. The whole country's up in arms about it - you've seen the press coverage, haven't you?"

"I don't need to see the press coverage. I was in my parents' house when it got egged. I have first-hand experience of the public's displeasure." Mary deadpanned.

"Right, exactly." The first man, Eric, said enthusiastically, happy that they were finally on the same wavelength about something. "Your father, despite his good intentions, has upset a lot of people by forming an alliance with the Workers' League. The National Party's traditional supporters feel betrayed and nobody - on either side - can see how this coalition is going to work. We need to do everything we can to ease everyone's concerns. We need to show people that the two parties aren't so different after all."

Mary remained seated in her chair, unmoved by this explanation. After a few moments of silence, she asked, "How much do you get paid, Eric?"

Both men looked startled by this response. "Erm, I don't see why that's relevant..." Eric spluttered.

"Come on, Eric, there's no need to be shy. I could just as easily find out from my father but I'm choosing to ask you." Mary said.

"Well, I earn the usual stipend for a-"

"A spin doctor?" Mary interrupted.

"I'm not a spin doctor!" Eric said adamantly. He was clearly fed up of being tarnished with that brush. "I'm-"

"Yes, yes, you're in 'public relations', 'head of communications', or whatever, it doesn't matter." Mary waved a hand dismissively. "The point is - you're in the most senior position you can be in, for your department." Eric nodded somewhat proudly at this. "You're earning a six figure salary." Again, Eric nodded. "And you have this..._assistant_ of sorts to help you." She gestured towards Nigel, who looked thoroughly perturbed at being referred to as an assistant. "And yet the best you could come up with as an idea to tamper this political storm - even with both of your brains put together - was to have the National Party's leader's daughter begin a fake relationship with the Workers' League's leader's son?" She asked, her voice dripping with exaggerated disbelief.

"Alright, I've had enough of this cheek." Nigel stormed over to her. "Mary, I'm sorry to put this to you so bluntly, but the fact is that nobody gives a damn what you think of our strategy. We have more important things on our mind than what some twenty-five year old socialite thinks would be a better idea. Your father will be prime minister in a matter of hours and it is his reputation, and that of his party - which is a 300 year old party, I might add - that matters most. Why don't you leave that for the grown ups to sort out, and you can worry about looking good in front of the cameras with your new boyfriend?"

If there hadn't already been enough drama going on in Downing Street, Mary would have kicked that man right in the balls. Instead, she nobly chose to glare at him with all her might while Eric attempted to interject.

"What Nigel says is true, Mary," he said calmly, obviously wary of her having a violent outburst, "Furthermore, we think that this approach could actually be of some personal benefit to you. Having a nice, sensible man by your side is likely to stop all those silly stories that have been going round in the magazines and tabloids. It could make your life easier."

As much as Mary hated to admit it, Eric did raise an interesting point. The media attention on her during the election campaign had been tiresome and invasive, and she'd been seeking some way of putting all the rumours to rest. Perhaps this was it. She sighed again, this time with a hint of resignation that Eric and Nigel immediately picked up on.

"What does this 'nice, sensible man' do, then?" She asked wearily.

"He runs a legal advice centre in East London."

_Oh dear God._ "He sounds like a hoot." She said sarcastically.

...

"This is definitely the best option we have at the moment."

Matthew crossed his arms across his chest, considering the proposal. "I understand why you think this might be helpful - and, of course, I'd be willing to do whatever it took to help my father in office - but I don't think I quite see how feasible it is." He replied politely.

"It really wouldn't be too much of a burden." Jacob, his father's aide, replied. "You'd make a couple of public appearances per week, at fundraisers and the like. Maybe throw in one low key appearance at a local cinema or something, just so it seems more realistic. Bit of hugging, bit of kissing. That's it, really." Jacob shrugged.

Kissing? "Wait, so I'd have to be physically intimate with this woman?" Matthew sat forward in his seat. He wasn't the sort of person who was used to snogging women that he didn't know, and he didn't fancy the idea of doing that in full view of the public and the national press.

"Not massively." Jacob shrugged again. "Just enough to suggest that there is a real relationship there. She's quite a looker anyway, so I'm sure you won't find it difficult." He winked smarmily.

Matthew frowned. He'd seen pictures and short snippets on the news about Mary Crawley, and he agreed that she was very attractive. Nevertheless, getting off with a stranger whilst deliberately positioned in front of paparazzi sounded pretty trashy to him. But then, he supposed, politics had always involved some trash. He sighed. "For exactly how long do I need to keep this up?"

"Just as long as it takes for this furore to die down. Soon, the public will move on from the initial shock and the focus will become more about the coalition's individual policies. The press will report on you less and less, until everyone forgets that you were ever a couple, and you can go back to your normal life." He paused for a moment until another thought struck him. "One thing your father mentioned to me, which Robert Crawley's team have no doubt also made clear to his daughter - under no circumstances whatsoever should this fake relationship turn into a real one."

"Er...OK." Matthew was slightly confused by this instruction. "Why would it? I don't know her and I don't plan on actually spending that much time with her."

"Just in case you start to get other ideas once you actually meet." Jacob replied. "The point of this plan is to provide a means of soothing tensions in the short-term, while this coalition lasts and your father builds up his support. For all we know there'll be another election in a year or two and the National Party are back to being the enemy again. We can't have any romance tying the two parties together."

"No, that makes sense." Matthew nodded. "I really don't think there's any risk of that being a problem, Jacob."

"Glad to hear that. Now, what do you say about it? I need to report back and confirm that we can go ahead."

Matthew scratched his jaw, weighing up the pros and cons. Not that he had a decision to make, anyway. It had already been made for him. This was merely a courtesy whereby he was being informed of his bizarre role in the new government. "Alright, fine. Tell them I'll do it." He said. After a moment he asked, "What does she do, again?"

Jacob, thankful that he could get on with the rest of the shitstorm-handling that he had to do that day, stood up to leave. "Oh, she's a socialite of some sort. Doesn't really have a job. You know what they're like in that party - more money than sense and everything's inherited."

Matthew watched in mild despair as Jacob left the room. _Great_. "She sounds just like my cup of tea." He murmured to himself.

* * *

_A/N: I know I'm very naughty for starting a new story when I have so many that I haven't updated in months and months, but please let me know your thoughts! Please note that I'm taking some creative licence with the political world here - it obviously bears significant resemblance to the 2010 elections in the UK, but I've made up new party names and rules about when elections take place and general goings-on will probably be different, so take all of that with a pinch of salt! Thanks for reading xxx_


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm went off. Mary's hand darted out to silence it. As it did every morning, her mind ran through what she had to do that day. With a groan, she buried her face in her pillow, throwing the duvet over her head.

After yesterday's briefing, today was the day she was going to meet her new, pre-assigned boyfriend. The closer the idea came to being a reality, the weirder it seemed. She'd tried to explain to her few close friends how it was going to work, but soon realised that she still didn't quite know herself.

Matthew, on the other side of London in his modest studio apartment, had much the same feelings. His mother hadn't been pleased with the strategy at all, but her husband had tried to convince her that it was for the good of the country – in an indirect way, at least – and that had somewhat appealed to her humanitarian nature. The one thing that Matthew clung onto was the fact that this 'relationship' was merely temporary. Given how quickly things had been moving in the political world recently, he was hoping that a month at most would suffice. After all, if people gave up caring about celebrity marriages after a few weeks, then why would they remain interested in a pseudo-political romance for any longer than a month?

Yes, this would all blow over in a couple of weeks, tops. And then his life could return to normal, he thought, slipping on his Converse before leaving the small flat.

...

"He's late." Mary complained drily, leaning back in her chair. "What happens if he turns up late for all our fake dates? It won't be very convincing, will it?"

"People in real relationships turn up late to events too, you know." Nigel retorted casually, although he was pacing up and down in front of the window. He was keenly awaiting Matthew's arrival so that this ingenious plan of his could commence. "Ah, here he is!" He exclaimed, rushing to the door.

With a sigh, Mary reluctantly dragged herself to her feet. She'd been hoping this guy wouldn't turn up and then they could call the whole thing off. She automatically smoothed her hands over her dress and bounced her hair to give it volume, although she didn't know why she bothered. It's not as if she was eager to impress this nobody. He was an accountant, for heaven's sake! He'd barely even been photographed during the election campaign – an indication of his innately boring nature, she guessed – so she wasn't sure what he looked like. Nigel and Eric had assured her that he was attractive, but of course they had a vested interest in her being amenable to 'Operation Brangelina', as the spin doctors had dubbed it this morning. Apparently, the combination of Mary and Matthew would prove as potent in the political realm as the pairing of Hollywood's most famous couple. Needless to say, Mary's eyes practically rolled themselves out of her head when she heard this.

Matthew walked up to the back door to Robert Crawley's house. Former house, in fact. Robert and Cora Crawley had moved into 10 Downing Street the previous afternoon. Higher powers had decided that his arrival at the Prime Minister's residence would attract too much attention, given that a swarm of photographers were now permanently parked outside all entrances to the house. Eric had therefore suggested that Matthew arrive through the back entrance to the Crawley family's townhouse in Chelsea, which was now largely neglected as the media presumed the whole family had moved out.

Matthew was rather surprised to be confronted by two middle-aged men as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

"Matthew! Come in!" Eric greeted him enthusiastically, clapping him on the back as if they were old friends.

Nigel similarly smiled broadly at him and shook his hand. "Will your aide be arriving shortly?" He asked, peering behind Matthew to see if Jacob was in tow.

"Er, no, actually. He won't be coming. My father told me to come on my own." He explained. Reginald was determined to keep this business as low-key as possible and had batted away Jacob's arguments that it was a matter for the respective public relations teams to co-ordinate. Let Matthew and Mary arrange it between themselves and then they'll be more comfortable, Reginald had said.

Now, Matthew could see that Robert Crawley's party took a slightly different approach.

"Oh, right. Well, I suppose the National Party like to do things with a bit more decorum." Eric laughed light-heartedly in order to cover up his dig at the Workers' League. Seeing Matthew's unimpressed expression, he continued, "Anyway, all our differences are being put aside now, eh? Let's get down to business."

Matthew winced at his rather crass choice of phrase. For the first time, he noticed Mary Crawley stood a little further inside the room.

Mary had had the advantage of being able to observe Matthew while he was talking to Nigel and Eric, so he wasn't able to see her initial reaction to him. Not that she ever let her thoughts display on her face, mind you. It appeared, however, that this Matthew Crawley fellow was substantially less talented than her at keeping a poker face. As his eyes landed on her, they widened and his mouth dropped open. She smirked internally. At least he realised that he was punching well above his weight in this faux-romance.

He was fairly handsome, she conceded, just not her type at all. She would never be pictured in the papers or magazines with someone like him. He was too..._normal_ looking. Too boy-next-door. Still, at least he wasn't as unattractive as his job suggested he might be.

"So, here we are, then." Nigel had a cheery grin plastered to his face but it was quite clearly devoid of any real cheer. How could anyone be genuinely cheery in such a bizarrely uncomfortable situation? "Mary, this is Matthew." He gestured needlessly towards Matthew, pausing as he expected Mary to say something in greeting. She didn't. "Matthew, Mary." He added for the sake of having something to say.

Awkwardly, Matthew approached her, smiling lop-sidedly. He wasn't sure how to greet her – he half-felt like he should kiss her on the cheek but that seemed too forced. The longer he hesitated, the higher Mary's eyebrow raised at him. God, this wasn't a good start. Finally, he opted for a clumsy handshake, which did nothing to bring that judgmental eyebrow of hers back down.

After all the fuss about photoshopping that he'd read about, he'd been certain that the various pictures of Mary that he'd seen had been altered to flatter her. Now he realised that they actually didn't do her justice. She hadn't even said anything to him yet but she had an air about her that he'd not come across before. It was elegant and refined, which made sense, he supposed, in light of her background. There was something else there too, though, that he couldn't quite place a finger on...

"Nice of you to dress up for the occasion." Mary's first words to him dripped with practiced sarcasm. Her eyes slowly and deliberately travelled over him, and he was suddenly terribly conscious of his un-branded polo shirt, slightly faded dark jeans and battered Converse shoes.

Ah yes, he realised. _That's_ what else is in her air. Arrogance.

Nigel and Eric forced amused laughs out of their mouths in order to diffuse the tension in the room. "She's a sharp one, this one." Eric nodded his head towards Mary, who promptly shot a glare at him. Eric cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Right, well, I suppose we should leave you to it."

Again, Matthew winced. What exactly did these aides expect him and Mary to 'get down to'? What was the 'it' that they were being left to?

"Mary, you have our numbers if you need us." Nigel said, although he also seemed unsure of what questions he could possibly be asked.

This whole scenario was very, very strange.

The two men had exited the house, leaving the young couple stood opposite each other in total silence. Matthew wanted to say something but could think of literally nothing. He glanced around for inspiration. He looked at the plush furnishings. He looked at the ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. He looked at the mahogany cabinet. "Erm," He said, to pierce the deafening silence. He noticed a framed picture on the wall of Mary with her parents at her graduation from university. "That's a nice picture – what was your degree in?" He asked politely.

"Don't act like you're even remotely interested in my life." Came the cutting reply.

Matthew turned to her sharply. "I'm sorry?" He asked, thinking he must have misheard her.

"The only reason you're here is because your father ordered you to be. And guess what? The only reason I'm here is because _my_ father ordered me to be."

Her bluntness was, frankly, quite startling. Matthew had expected some niceties, at least. After all, from what he'd heard, this woman had been to finishing school and had dined with the Royal family on several occasions.

"So please, let's not try to pretend that we actually give a damn about each other's lives or personalities. I don't want this stupid 'Operation Brangelina' thing to interfere with my life any more than it absolutely needs to." Mary finished, crossing her arms.

"'Operation Brangelina'?" Matthew asked, confused.

"Yes, that's what they're calling it in Downing Street now." Mary replied, rolling her eyes at the memory of it. "They think that our 'relationship' will do for British politics what Brad and Angelina did for Hollywood – provide it with 'a sense of security and glamour', or some nonsense." She quoted Nigel's earlier explanation.

Matthew couldn't help but laugh at this. Mary's face remained as hard as stone. "Come on," he appealed, "I find this situation as odd as you do, but you've got to have a sense of humour about it."

"Do I?" Mary questioned. "I don't see what's so humorous about my life being used as a pawn in my Dad's workplace."

"Your Dad's 'workplace' is the government of the United Kingdom." Matthew remarked. "It's hardly a _normal_ environment. These peculiar PR strategies are bound to pop up every now and then."

"I'm sure you're the expert on what's '_normal_'." Mary said with a hint of disdain, purposefully glancing at his muddy shoes again.

"Yes, well...you must be the one who's providing the 'glamour'." He eyed her expensive-looking day dress and heels. "I must be the one providing the 'security'." He said, attempting to be light-hearted, although her insulting attitude was beginning to get under his skin.

"I certainly agree with your first statement." Mary said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. "But why is it impossible that I would provide security too?"

"Because from all accounts you're quite fickle when it comes to men." Matthew blurted out before he realised what he was saying. He immediately regretted it, seeing Mary's stunned expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that-"

"Do you believe everything you read in the papers, Matthew?" Mary asked, her voice as cold as ice. "Are you one of those gossip-mongerers who enjoys reading character attacks on young females in the media, and judges them without even knowing them?"

"You want to talk about judging someone without even knowing them?" Matthew snapped back, really quite annoyed by this woman, "You've clearly already decided that you're above me just because I have muddy shoes! It's raining outside, for Christ's sake!" He cried defensively and gestured outside the window, where it was in fact perfectly sunny. "At least, it was when I got the bus over here..." He said awkwardly.

"You haven't answered my question." Mary persisted.

"What does it matter even if I do believe the stories about you, hm?" Matthew challenged. "I thought it didn't matter whether we knew each other's personalities or not."

"Alright, fine." Mary said assertively, holding her hands up as if to put a stop to this conversation. Some part of her brain acknowledged that she had been as judgmental of Matthew as he had been of her, and that she couldn't be angry at him without being hypocritical. Yet, the larger part of her brain made a distinction between her judgments, which had been borne of nothing but meeting him in person, and his judgments, which had been borne of what the media had been saying about her. To her, the latter seemed much worse. Nevertheless, she didn't feel it was worth wasting her time with this man. Not right now, anyway. She had a lunch to attend in Mayfair in an hour's time. "Let's just forget about all of that and focus on what we're meant to be doing?"

Matthew began to nod in agreement until he realised he didn't know what she was talking about. "Um, what exactly are we meant to be doing?" He hadn't been informed of any particular purpose to this meeting other than introducing themselves.

Patience wearing thin, Mary huffed. "So you turn up twenty minutes late and you don't even know why you came here?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but the bus was late and then there was an accident at the roundabout-" Matthew began.

"It doesn't matter." Mary waved her hand to get him to stop. She had no experience of travelling on buses and she wasn't in the least bit curious about the obstacles that face its passengers. "I'll fill you in on why we're here, Matthew, seeing as your team aren't organised enough to do it themselves." Matthew tensed at her under-hand jibe. He, alongside their millions of supporters, was worried about whether this coalition was workable, as the National Party was known for looking down their noses at the Workers' League. The National Party were for the landed classes, the nobility. The Workers' League were for the people who worked on the land, the labourers. It seemed not much had changed, at least in Mary Crawley's eyes.

"It isn't our fault if your team make decisions without taking the courtesy of telling us about them." Matthew said, determined to make it clear that he wasn't going to tolerate anyone treating his father's party as inferior.

"We're supposed to practice kissing."

Mary had ignored his comment and simultaneously rendered him speechless.

"We...er...I – what?" Matthew spluttered.

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically and put her hands on her hips. God help Great Britain if this is what half the government was going to be like. "Do you at least know about the event we're supposed to be attending tomorrow night?" She laced her words with as much condescension as she could muster.

That rang a bell. "Oh yeah, the fundraiser for the victims of the floods in Somerset?"

"Well done." Mary replied sarcastically. "Our genius strategists have decided that we have to turn up together and make some sort of public display of affection to announce our relationship to the world."

"So several hundred people either die or lose their homes in a natural disaster and we're using it as an opportunity to make out in front of some cameras?" Matthew frowned. Politics was dirtier than he'd thought.

"Apparently so, yes." Mary said impatiently. "Anyway, we're supposed to practice how we're going to kiss so that it will seem natural when the time comes."

Matthew shifted awkwardly on the spot. At twenty-six years old, he still grew nervous when kissing women for the first time. And the women he usually kissed were far less hostile than the one stood before him, looking at him expectantly.

"Alright." He said with more confidence than he felt. Seeing that she was waiting for him to make the first move, he slowly approached her. She straightened up and tilted her head upwards slightly. As he drew closer, she noticed a layer of stubble on his jaw. Her instinctive reaction was that he hadn't even bothered to shave this morning, but then she thought that it lent him a more rugged look than she'd first seen in him. "Is this OK?" He asked quietly. They were now only inches apart, and he had just placed one hand lightly on her waist.

"Hm." Mary assented, suddenly taken by how startlingly blue his eyes were. He was really quite good looking, on closer inspection. Maddeningly unrefined and judgmental, but still good looking.

"OK...well...I'll kiss you, then." Matthew swallowed, his heart pounding against his chest with nerves. His brain told him he was being an idiot – he didn't need her to _enjoy_ this kiss. In fact, after all the insults she'd thrown his way, he didn't want to provide her with any pleasure at all. Still, he didn't want to confirm her opinion that he was an uncouth bore.

Just as he started leaning in, increasingly aware of her fragrant, feminine scent and how pink and soft her lips looked, she leaned back marginally. "No tongue." She ordered quietly.

Now _he_ rolled his eyes. "I'm not planning on making this any saucier than kissing my Aunt Elizabeth, don't worry." He replied drolly.

He licked his lips before leaning back in again, and Mary felt herself heat up ever so slightly. It had been a while since someone had kissed her, she told herself. That's all it was. The anticipation built up between them, and she closed her eyes in preparation.

Matthew quickly dipped his head and barely pressed his lips against hers before backing away.

Mary was staring at him incredulously. "What the hell was _that_?"

"A kiss!" Matthew said defensively. "What was wrong with it?"

"Number one: if any of the photographers blink they would all miss it. It needs to last more than a nano-second so that it can actually be photographed, Matthew. Otherwise what's the point? Number two: we're supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Not a couple of pigeons pecking at each other."

There was that bloody infuriating patronising tone again. Let's just get this over with, Matthew thought. He didn't want to be in her presence much longer.

He stepped towards her again, this time firmly placing both hands on her waist before bowing his head.

His lips froze for a moment, simply pressed against hers, before they started to move slowly. They were soft, and gentle, and Mary felt herself leaning in to him as his hands moved along her waist. She reached a hand up to grasp his shoulder while the other touched his neck. Their lips captured each other and glided together for a while – a relatively long while, which Matthew realised in the recesses of his brain. He pulled away.

He was surprised to see Mary's eyes were still closed for a second or two after the kiss had ended. It made him feel rather smug. She'd been enjoying it.

"Will that do?" He asked, now with genuine confidence as he observed the rose-coloured flush on her cheeks.

"It was a little long." Mary said, clearing her throat. Thank goodness she'd inherited her father's political ability to recover quickly in the face of embarrassment. She deliberately made her tone accusatory, as if implying that Matthew had taken liberties by kissing her for longer than he needed to.

The small smirk that had graced Matthew's lips now fell. "You should have pulled away, then." He bit back.

"I tried to but you were clamping my waist too tightly." Mary remarked, smiling to herself as Matthew's ears grew pink. In truth, she could have easily moved if she'd wanted to, but Matthew's grip on her had tightened as the kiss went on so she chose to blame her immobility on him.

"How short does the kiss need to be?" Matthew decided to brush over her comment.

"Somewhere in between the two we just did."

"OK..." Matthew wasn't sure if he was supposed to try again, or rely solely on her verbal instructions now that they'd already done it. Mary wasn't giving him any indication either way, so he decided to go for it. He hoped that he'd get it right this time and then he could leave. He had some tax returns to do.

His hand brushed against her waist again and he angled his head. Mary automatically placed her hand back on his neck and angled her head the other way. Perhaps this 'practicing' idea was worthwhile – they already seemed more comfortable with each other. His lips captured her bottom lip before releasing it slowly and capturing her top lip, then pulling away. It was a much sweeter kiss, and Mary almost tutted in annoyance at the faint goosebumps she could feel on the back of her neck. It was just her monthly hormones, that was all.

"That was better." Mary said after they straightened up, adopting a more business-like manner.

"Cool." Matthew said as casually as he could.

"I think you're supposed to meet me here at 7pm tomorrow and we'll travel together in a cab. Don't be late again." She said pointedly.

"I won't be." Matthew said firmly, his prior irritation beginning to re-emerge. He had to leave this woman before he developed the urge to punch a wall. "I'll see you then. Enjoy the rest of your day." He threw over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

"You too." Mary returned with no sincerity whatsoever. It was only once Matthew had closed the door behind him and she tried to move that she realised her legs felt slightly weak.

* * *

_A/N: thoughts, please! I loved hearing your responses to the first chapter, thank you so much. I have no idea how long or short this story will be so I would really appreciate some more reviews! Thanks for reading xxx_


	3. Chapter 3

The lights flickered in front of his eyes. Dozens of cameras lined up behind a set of railings, aggressive photographers jamming their protruding lenses into whatever gap they could find in order to capture the arrival of the young couple on film. Matthew didn't know where to look.

"What are you doing?" Mary murmured out of the side of her mouth. She somehow managed to say this while maintaining her placid smile, slowly rotating her head from left to right to ensure that each paparazzo received his fair share of her beauty. "Stop scrunching your face up like that."

"The camera flashes are really bright!" Matthew murmured back in his defence. He couldn't understand how she was able to withstand the irregular and overlapping flashes of light without feeling like she was gradually being blinded. Then again, he supposed, she was fairly accustomed to arriving at events by walking down a red carpet between walls of photographers and interviewers.

"For God's sake," she muttered, her smile dropping as the annoyance she felt at him seeped into her expression. "Haven't you ever had your photo taken before? Wait, what am I saying - of course you haven't." She topped off her sarcastic remark with a dazzling smile directed at him for the cameras. Her ability to swap personalities so effortlessly was beginning to alarm Matthew. He'd been about to give her a look to indicate how unamusing he found her comment, when he'd remembered that their every movement was being documented and - as Nigel and co had reminded him numerous times when he'd gone to pick Mary up an hour earlier - all it took was one dodgy-looking photo and the entire plan would be ruined. "_Ceaseless romance!_" had been the exact order from Eric.

Aside from the fact that he wasn't sure exactly what it meant, it was proving to be an incredibly difficult order to follow. For one thing, Matthew wasn't used to having cameras poised on him at all times or having his behaviour scrutinised so closely, and it was making him hyper-aware of his movements to the point that he couldn't remember how to look natural. The second, more significant obstacle was that Mary was being deliberately obnoxious towards him at every possible opportunity. The entire cab journey had been spent with her either ignoring him in favour of looking out the window or checking her hair, or berating him for not being experienced in making public appearances. He'd tried pointing out that the majority of the United Kingdom lacked such experience, but she didn't seem to think this a valid argument. She'd suggested that, perhaps if he tried to be a more interesting human being, he might gain more attention and therefore skills in handling the media. Matthew had muttered something under his breath about her being a walking stereotype of a socialite and things had gotten even worse. He could be seen as having set her off in the first place, he mused; upon his arrival at her house she'd been finishing off her make-up - he'd remarked off-handedly that he'd been expecting a bevy of coiffeurs and make-up artists to be surrounding her and that he was surprised she was "doing her own special effects". He'd chuckled as he said it, to indicate that he'd been joking, and even added that he thought she looked nice to reinforce the indication. It had fallen flat, however, and he quickly realised that he'd be faced with an irate Mary Crawley for the remainder of the evening.

Back on the red carpet, Matthew slid his arm around her waist in an effort to make themselves look more like a couple. The paparazzi seemed to be eating it up.

Mary flicked her hair over her shoulder as they shuffled down the carpet to pose for the next set of cameras. In all honesty, as irritating as he was, Matthew wasn't doing too badly for his first big public event. She wouldn't ever admit it to him, though. Nor would she ever admit - to _anyone - _that she'd been left a little breathless when he'd walked into the house to pick her up. He scrubbed up rather well. He'd shaved, his hair was neatly combed and his suit hugged him in all the right places. The suit didn't even look as cheap as she'd expected it to. His insistence on painting her as nothing but a shallow socialite, however, had dashed all hopes he might have had of her being civil to him during the evening. If there was one thing that she hated more than anything else, it was being judged by her looks and her wealth. She'd had to contend with these judgments all her life. She enjoyed looking her best and she enjoyed her status, so she wasn't about to concede either of those facets of her life, but it didn't render it any more justifiable for other people to think that was all there was to her. And if this Matthew Crawley fellow was going to be another one of those people, then she would give as good as she got.

"OK, now kiss me." Mary quietly commanded. They'd reached the entrance to the old hotel where the fundraiser was taking place, and this was where the greatest number of photographers were located.

It took Matthew a few moments to register what she'd said, and Mary had to pinch him hard to evoke a reaction. "Ow! Calm down, I'll kiss you in a second." He replied, frowning at the pain he felt on his waist.

"Stop frowning!" Mary hissed while she smoothed her palm over where she'd just pinched him, as if in a loving caress. She was quite good at this charade, Matthew thought to himself as he tried to style his frown out by coughing and gesturing to his throat. "Well done, very natural." Mary rolled her eyes out of the sight of the cameras. "Just get on with it so we can go inside."

"Fine." Matthew huffed. As they'd practiced the previous day, he settled his hands on her waist, dipped his head to meet hers, and kissed her. It lasted no more than three or four seconds, but it was enough to send the photographers into a frenzy. If he'd thought there'd been lots of camera flashes before... "Good Lord." He breathed, observing the wall of light, from which came a few whoops and cheers from the paparazzi who were glad to have been given some kind of scoop.

"That's our job done, then. Come on." Mary grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind her, into the relative calm of the hall.

"They really fell for that?" Matthew asked, relieved to be marginally less inhibited now that they were inside. There were still cameras around, but only from the BBC and ITV as opposed to sleazy tabloids and gossip magazines. He'd agreed to go along with the whole 'Operation Brangelina' thing, but hadn't really expected it to work. He found himself quite impressed with the respective PR teams that the media did seem genuinely interested in this so-called relationship. "That's good, right? Hopefully it means some of the negative press about the Coalition will begin to settle down now."

"Fat chance." Mary scoffed, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a waiter.

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked, taking one glass from her.

"The media's interest in our 'romance' has no bearing on their doubts in our fathers' politics." She explained, her eyes perusing the room to look for their table. "This might distract them for a while but, fundamentally, if the Coalition isn't strong enough then it won't matter. It's the relationship between Robert Crawley and Reginald Crawley that needs to be convincing, not the one between us."

Matthew looked at her with interest. She did express herself quite eloquently, he noted, and she seemed astute. At least he wasn't stuck spending the evening with an air-head.

"By the way, I think it's ridiculous that our fathers have such similar names. The newspapers are having to use their full names all the time because neither 'Mr Crawley' nor 'R. Crawley' work. Doesn't your father have a middle name he can use instead?" Mary asked, leading the way to their seats.

"Why can't _your_ father use one of his many middle names?" Matthew enquired as he followed behind her. All posh people had about ten names, didn't they?

"Because _my_ father got the most votes." Mary threw back over her shoulder. Matthew rolled his eyes and took his seat next to her.

"Don't we need to mingle, or something?" Matthew asked, looking around the room. Most attendees were stood amongst the tables, introducing themselves to each other. It seemed important in the current circumstances that representatives from the Workers' League and the National Party meet and engage with each other.

"Be my guest!" Mary scoffed. "If schmoozing and plastering false platitudes all over people you can't stand is your thing, then please go ahead. But I'm going to sit here and drink my champagne." She said resolutely.

Matthew weighed his options but he could practically sense the brown-nosing from across the room, and he didn't particularly want to partake in it. "On second thought, maybe we should leave the networking to the experts and not take any more duties upon ourselves?" He suggested.

"A very wise decision." Mary nodded solemnly, prompting Matthew to smile. This was the least hostile she'd been to him all evening.

"Hey - why does your dad's name come up first?" Matthew asked, nodding his head towards the large screen, on which a projector shone the words: '_The Rt Hon Lord Robert Crawley MP and The Rt Hon Reginald Crawley MP welcome you to the Somerset Society's fundraising evening'._ "Shouldn't it be in alphabetical order? So my dad should come first?"

"Yes, but _my _dad got the most votes." Mary repeated herself with a mischievous smile that made Matthew grin.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to be a recurring theme in our conversations?" He said, chuckling to himself when Mary shrugged innocently. He was about to ask whether the fact that her father was a Lord made her a Lady, but he didn't want to seem like he was obsessed with talking about her background - not when she finally seemed to have lightened up a bit.

"Lady Mary!" A booming voice from a few tables away answered his question for him.

Matthew turned to see a tall, broad man approach them with a wide smile on his face, whom he recognised as the new Home Secretary in the National Party. There was a younger, blonde woman on his arm and an even younger redhead following behind.

"Mr Cosgrove." Mary stood to greet him, and Matthew followed suit.

"Please, call me Michael." The man said, taking Mary's hand in his and placing a small kiss on the back of it.

"Only if you stop calling me 'Lady'." Mary smiled back at him, prompting the man to laugh.

"You're far too refined to be referred to like any other person." He said, and Mary laughed politely. Matthew suddenly realised that he didn't know what Mary's genuine laugh sounded like. The only laughs he'd heard from her so far were fake ones or sarcastic ones. His thoughts were interrupted as the man turned to address him. "Forgive me, where are my manners - I'm Michael Cosgrove."

"Matthew Crawley." Matthew shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you." He added. Crikey, he was getting good at being fake, too. He loathed this man. His elitist policies were infamous within the Workers' League.

"This is my wife, Belinda." Matthew shook the blonde woman's hand. "And this young lady is Megan McDonald." Michael gestured to the redheaded woman, who meekly waved from behind Belinda.

"Oh, so you're the famous Megan whom we're all hearing so much about!" Mary said with a smile. Matthew looked on, confused. He hadn't heard anything about her whatsoever.

"Yes, yes, that's her - she's too modest to boast about herself so I'll do it for her." Michael replied, and Belinda and Megan duly laughed. "Especially for the benefit of our friend in the Workers' League." Michael winked at Matthew, who clenched his fist by his side. God, this man was nauseating. "Megan is the new shining star in the National Party. We're hoping to have her be the new Environment Secretary. That is, if your father, Matthew, doesn't get his way by having that Goodwin character push his way forward."

Matthew raised his eyebrows at this. Megan couldn't be much more than thirty, and all the other cabinet ministers were in their fifties, at least. Being the Environment Secretary in a risky endeavour like the Coalition was a huge responsibility for anyone, let alone someone so young and, he presumed, inexperienced. "I'm afraid my father is determined to have some say in this government, Mr Cosgrove." Matthew smiled tightly, managing to stop himself from blurting out, "_It's a bloody coalition, you fool."_

"Please, please, call me Michael!" Came the jovial reply.

"Anyway, it was lovely to see you again, Mary." Belinda interjected, clearly not keen for any political arguments to kick off. "And lovely to meet you, Matthew."

"Likewise." Matthew replied, addressing all three of them.

"You look after her, alright?" Michael jerked his head towards Mary with another wink. Matthew supposed that this was meant to be a joke, as presumably all cabinet members knew about the fixed relationship, so he forced a chuckle. He watched as the trio walked away, before he and Mary resumed their seats.

"So have you known 'Please, Call Me Michael' long?" He asked, taking a swig of his champagne.

To his surprise, Mary laughed. Genuinely. "I can tell you absolutely adored him." She giggled. Her smile was infectious. It lit up her whole face, making her look even more attractive than normal. "I must admit, he has a certain manner that you need to get used to."

"I'm not sure I want to take the time to get used to it." Matthew replied drily.

"Well, you might have to. This government is all about compromise, remember?" Mary echoed the main soundbite from her father's first speech. "To answer your question - yes, he's known Dad for about twenty years now. They rose through the ranks together so they're pretty close."

"Hmm." Matthew merely hummed in response, taking a sip of his champagne. He hadn't met Robert Crawley yet. From all accounts, he was a reasonable, relatively amiable man. After all, his father wouldn't have agreed to go into government with someone difficult or pompous. Yet, he wondered exactly what Robert was like if his trusted friends were people like Michael Cosgrove and Nigel the PR man.

Mary eyed him with a knowing smile. "You only have your father to blame if you're finding this whole experience uncomfortable, Matthew." She said light-heartedly. "You're going to have to get used to meeting people like Michael because, from what I've heard, the National Party are going to be dominating this coalition."

Matthew met her gaze in a challenge. "We'll see." He smirked.

...

"_A dramatic day for politics, indeed. Who would have thought we'd see the first female cabinet member for the National Party, in its 300-year history, and the youngest cabinet member in British politics for almost 50 years in the same cabinet, let alone being the same person? Couple that with the recent relationship of Lord Crawley's and Reginald Crawley's respective offspring, and it looks like this Coalition is going to be a very interesting government. Back to the studio."_

Matthew flicked over the channel with a sigh. That bloody Megan McDonald got the position. After the fundraiser, which was now a week ago, he'd gone home and researched her. It turned out she'd had a relatively impressive career given her age, with a lot of experience in local government as well as being an environmental consultant for a large corporation for a couple of years. However, she still came nowhere near matching the credentials of Will Goodwin - the Workers' League candidate for the post - and neither Reginald Crawley nor his party were very happy about it.

"Are they still talking about it?" Mary asked as she walked in the room. "God, is there really nothing else happening in the world?"

"I don't see why you're complaining." Matthew retorted. "This is good news for your lot."

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "Will you please stop referring to the situation as 'our lot' and 'your lot'? We're not mortal enemies, you know. Not anymore, at least. To be honest, we're doing you a favour."

Matthew's eyebrows raised at this. "Excuse me?"

"Let's face it, Matthew. The Workers' League have some nice policies that sound lovely and pleasantfa but in practice they're completely unworkable. Why do you think they've been struggling to get votes all these years? They needed the National Party to bring them into government otherwise they'd have never had a chance of getting anywhere near this kind of influence. So I don't see why you're so bitter about losing this one post." She concluded, folding her arms. She observed Matthew's stunned expression. "Or are you just annoyed that the position has gone to a woman?" She added for good measure. She highly doubted that Matthew would object to this step forward for gender-equality - he came across as a very liberal, forward-thinking man. But he was being annoying and she felt like saying anything she could to rile him up. It was rather enjoyable, she found.

"You're unbelievable." Matthew shook his head. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response." He reached for his jacket. "Let's go." He said curtly, turning to walk out of the door. A smug Mary followed behind him.

They were attending a garden party, hosted in the grounds of the house of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who was another National Party minister named Lawrence Winterbottom. Over the week since the fundraiser, they'd met on another two occasions, which were both low-key affairs. First, they went to the cinema in Chelsea, so they could be photographed leaving together and getting into Matthew's car after the paparazzi were inevitably tipped off on Twitter by a fellow cinema-goer. They hadn't had to do anything besides hold hands, after spending thirty minutes bickering over which film to watch, settling on a film that neither of them wanted to see as a compromise, and then complaining about said film throughout its duration. Secondly, they went for a walk in St James' Park. Again, they didn't have to do much besides wrap their arms around each other and kiss each other on the cheek a couple of times as they walked. This meeting was slightly less volatile, and they managed to talk about their plans for the summer and moved on to discuss where they'd traveled to in the past.

It was odd - they'd only known each other for a week but had quickly become accustomed to each other's company, however irksome they each found it. They'd also fallen into something resembling a routine. Matthew would arrive at Mary's place to pick her up, he'd end up waiting for the best part of an hour while she finished getting ready, and then they'd leave together in Matthew's car or a taxi.

Those past two meetings had been enough to ensure that they were copiously mentioned in the press, with photos of them being circulated around the internet and commented on by gossip-hungry observers. Many people seemed supportive of this relationship between two young, good-looking people, while others were more sceptical and questioned how the relationship had even come about. Nevertheless, the various PR aides assured both sides that this was a promising start.

Today's event was more high-profile, given that it was to be attended by almost one hundred guests from both sides of government - the majority of whom were unaware that the relationship was a hoax - and there would be a couple of pre-approved photographers stationed in the grounds. Matthew and Mary were therefore under instructions to be more couply and to speak to as many people from both parties as possible.

Once they arrived at the house, they were greeted by many guests who seemed eager to meet them. Matthew left it to Mary to expertly dodge the more pointed questions about how they met and how they got together, before she finally extricated them both from the gathering crowd so that they could find their parents.

"We don't really have to find our parents." Mary whispered to him as they walked away. "I just wanted an excuse to leave."

"Good thinking." Matthew replied. Alas, they were soon separated from each other before they were able to properly escape, each being pulled by various politicians and their families to mingle.

Mary had forgotten how exhausting it was to have her society-face on for extended periods of time. At least during the election campaign she hadn't had to offer more than a few soundbites and smiles at the camera as she posed with her family and applauded her father's speeches. Now that he was actually running the country, more was expected of her. A little while passed and she began to wonder how Matthew was faring. If she was finding it difficult to dodge the intrusive queries, even with all her years of experience, how on Earth would he be handling it? To her surprise, she saw, he was doing rather well. She noticed that a small group of women had gathered around him as he spoke, with a few others - including married women - looking on from a distance. They appeared to be hanging on his every word, laughing delightedly at his remarks and finding every opportunity to touch his arm or shoulder as they did so. One young lady, whom she recognised as the daughter of Lawrence Winterbottom, seemed particularly smitten. She was desperately trying to drag him away from the group so that she could 'give him a tour of the house', Mary overheard. The other women promptly shot daggers at her and managed to keep Matthew where he was, where they could all enjoy his company and gaze at his blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Interestingly, and worryingly, Mary felt pangs of jealousy in her stomach. She quickly attributed this to the fact that she had a naturally possessive nature, rather than to the fact that she cared for Matthew at all. She didn't like anyone else encroaching on what was hers and, for all intents and purposes, Matthew was her boyfriend. It was quite uncouth for them to be shamelessly flirting with him when they knew - or, at least, believed - that his girlfriend was close by and that, in some cases, their own husbands were just as close!

"Matthew," She called out sweetly as she approached him. The gaggle of women reluctantly parted down the middle to allow her access. "Let me show you that fountain I was telling you about." Matthew frowned at her in confusion. He really wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, was he? "You know - that ornate Baroque fountain that I was telling you about earlier?" Mary emphasised through slightly gritted teeth. Thankfully, realisation dawned on his face.

"Oh, right - yes, sounds good. Excuse me." He said to the group, and Mary noticed a few crestfallen expressions as they watched him leave. She promptly held his hand as she led him away.

"You're welcome." She said to him once they had reached a safe distance.

"For what, exactly?"

"For rescuing you from those women." Mary replied, peeved that he didn't seem more grateful.

"I was perfectly fine, actually." Matthew said. "They're the first nice people I've spoken to from the National Party, in fact."

_That's only because they're bored aristocrats who fancy a bit of middle-class totty._ "There are plenty of nice people in the party, thank you very much." Mary said instead. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lawrence Winterbottom's determined daughter making a beeline for Matthew again.

"If you're talking about yourself then I'm not so sure-" Matthew began, but was cut off by Mary's lips suddenly crashing against his. He spluttered at first and instinctively tried to move away, but her hands were on his head to keep him still. Slowly, her fingers found their way into his hair, sparking a tingling sensation over his scalp and down his neck. Her lips moved against his passionately and he couldn't help but respond, his hands automatically reaching for her waist.

All she'd needed to do was give Matthew a quick peck and that probably would have been enough to send Miss Winterbottom on her way, Mary thought to herself. Yet, for some reason, she couldn't seem to stop what she was doing. Alarmingly, before she could check herself, her tongue darted out to lick the underside of Matthew's top lip. She felt him squeeze her waist in shock, but he didn't pull away. She coaxed his mouth open and ran her tongue alongside his repeatedly, enjoying the sensation a little too much. It was only when she became aware of the increasingly loud mutterings of the guests around them that Mary broke the kiss. Leaning back, she opened her eyes slowly, and in a rush of sensations she noticed the butterflies in her stomach, the weakness of her knees, the fullness of her lips, the blueness of the wide eyes staring back at her and, finally, the dozens of people gawping at them.

Straightening up, she forced her placid smile back on her face, patted Matthew's chest affectionately and walked away. Where she was going, she had no idea. Swearing to herself under her breath, she legged it inside. _Shit! What the bloody hell did you do that for? _It was one thing to act amorous with her supposed boyfriend, but quite another to eat his face whilst surrounded by senior members of the government of the United Kingdom and their families. Something had come over her to make her do that. Whatever it was, she needed to rein it in to ensure she didn't embarrass herself further.

Matthew, meanwhile, remained planted to the spot, slightly bewildered and almost dangerously turned on. Mary had just stuck her warm, wet tongue into his mouth while her dainty fingers ran through his hair. And she'd tasted marvellous. With a sudden wave of self-awareness, Matthew noticed the dumb-struck people who were still stood around him, staring. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Nigel, Eric and Jacob from both PR teams, who all looked torn between being shocked and being pleased with what they'd witnessed. Deciding to take a leaf out of Mary's book, Matthew chose to escape inside the house.

The people he passed in the hallway hadn't seen the spectacle outside, so they merely greeted him with a smile, and a few of those whom he hadn't met yet stopped to introduce themselves. As politely as he could, Matthew made his excuses saying that he was looking for Mary. This seemed to work well, as nobody seemed to want to stand in the way of the young lovers who were beginning to unite the Coalition in the eyes of the public. Truthfully, though, Matthew didn't want to see Mary yet. He had no idea what had compelled her to kiss him like that, but he reckoned that she probably needed a few moments to figure that out for herself, judging from the way she practically ran away from him. It was odd - even though she wasn't quite as obnoxious towards him as she had been a week ago, she still seemed to dislike him. The only rational explanation was that she was acting under some special instruction from Nigel and Eric. Matthew wasn't always privy to their discussions. Yes, that must be it. The only concerning aspect of the scenario now was how affected Matthew was by it. His trousers had become significantly tighter around the groin area...it had been a while since a beautiful woman had kissed him like that - in fact, he didn't think he'd ever kissed a woman as beautiful as Mary - and he needed a moment himself to calm down.

He went upstairs in an effort to find one of the bathrooms. The house was enormous and he wondered whether he'd even be able to find his way back out to the garden. There were a few people milling around upstairs, and he bumped into a couple of women on the landing. One of them he recognised as Belinda, Michael Cosgrove's wife, and the other was the wife of the Workers' League's defence minister. He smiled at them both and said hello as they passed by each other. _At least the spouses of the Coalition members seem to be getting along. _

Finding himself in a more deserted area of the house, with still no indication of which rooms were bathrooms, Matthew tried randomly opening doors. The first door he opened was a study, with a huge, ornate writing desk that looked like it would equal the value of Matthew's entire flat. Shaking his head in wonder at how the other half live, he tried another door.

This one was a bedroom with a large, four-poster bed in the middle of it. Sat on the edge of the bed was Michael Cosgrove, his trousers undone in a pool around his ankles. In his lap was a head of red hair, bobbing up and down.

Matthew's jaw dropped open and he shut the door before Michael could see who it was who had walked in on him. _Fuck. _

* * *

_A/N: thank you so, so much for all your sweet, supportive reviews! I'm glad being are able to get on board with the strange concept of this story. I'm having so much fun writing it! You may have noticed that I borrowed the last bit of the chapter from The Line of Beauty, but I thought it was a good way to bring some drama into the story. Please let me know your thoughts! xxx_


	4. Chapter 4

After several minutes of pacing up and down in one of the drawing rooms to calm herself down and rationalise the situation (she'd come to the conclusion that her sudden outburst of tongue-duelling was her way of putting Lawrence Winterbottom's daughter, whom she'd never liked, in her place), Mary smoothed her hands over her dress and left the room, with the intention of rejoining the party in the garden with her head held high.

As soon as she walked out of the room, she was met with the sight of Matthew practically hurling himself down the stairs. His eyes landed on her.

"Mary! There you are. I need to talk to you." He whispered hurriedly as he approached her.

Mary gulped. He clearly wanted an explanation as to why she'd essentially assaulted him in front of his father's colleagues. It was fine - she had an explanation, after all, and it was nothing to do with the fact that his dark blue, fitted polo shirt brought out the azure of his eyes and his toned torso nor the fact that he had wonderfully soft lips. Nothing to do with that at all. She steadied herself as he stood close to her.

Once he stood in front of her, however, she noticed a slightly frantic expression on his face. She frowned at him questioningly. "What is it?" She asked when he remained silent.

His mouth flapped open and closed a few times and he waved one of his arms vaguely in the direction of the staircase. She raised an eyebrow at him again to try to encourage him to tell her what the hell was wrong with him.

"Michael Cosgrove!" Matthew blurted out. Again, Mary had no clue what he was talking about. "Megan McDonald!" Matthew said again, his eyes darting around them as if looking to see who was nearby. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs made him jump out of his skin. He spun round to see who it was. Upon seeing that it was one of the Workers' League, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Matthew, you're making no sense at all. Can you please try to form a coherent sentence?" Mary folded her arms calmly. She was rather glad of this distraction, as he didn't seem nearly so attractive when he was sputtering nonsense at her.

Taking a deep breath, Matthew closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he looked at her very intently. "I went upstairs to try to find a bathroom-"

"If you're having digestion issues then I'm not sure I want to hear the remainder of this story." Mary interrupted.

"Will you please just listen?" Matthew said impatiently. She may be an incredible kisser but she was also incredibly difficult. "I wasn't sure where it was so I opened a couple of the doors, and I ended up walking in on Michael Cosgrove." He paused. "With Megan McDonald."

Mary looked at him expectantly but he didn't elaborate. "OK..." She held her hands out as if to ask what the rest of the story was. "What's the big deal?" It made perfect sense for the two new cabinet ministers to be in conversation together.

Matthew rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed with exasperation. "Mary - they were _together_."

"Yes, I understand." Mary was getting annoyed now.

"I really don't think you do." Matthew said firmly. "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"I think you might have to because your explanation so far has been shite."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at her but appeased her nevertheless. He peered over his shoulder again to make sure they were out of earshot of anyone else. "Michael Cosgrove was sat on the bed, being..._pleasured_ by Megan McDonald. Her head was in his lap and his trousers were around his ankles." He said quietly, trying not to relive the memory because he detested Michael enough as it was without having to replay that image of him in his mind.

Mary frowned. "What?"

"You heard me!" Matthew said, growing impatient again. "No wonder she got the job!"

The frown on Mary's face disappeared. _Oh, this is all making sense now._ "I see what you're trying to do." She said knowingly.

It was Matthew's turn to frown at her. "Huh?"

"You're still cut up about the fact that your precious Will Goodwin didn't get the post and now you're making up whatever ridiculous story you can think of to explain what happened! For God's sake, Matthew, I knew the Workers' League were desperate but I didn't think you'd be this pathetic." She spat at him. Who did he think he was, trying to spin tales about an affair? Granted, she herself was taking part in a fake romance, but that was different. Nobody's reputation was being tarnished in that lie. Matthew was trying to suggest corruption amid the highest ranks of the country's oldest political party, and that was a big, big allegation.

"Woah, woah, wait a second." Matthew held his hands up, looking thoroughly affronted by her statement. "I'm not making this up! I saw it with my own eyes. If you want, you can go upstairs and see it for yourself. They're probably still going at it." He challenged.

Mary surveyed him for a moment. He had seemed genuinely perturbed when she saw him descend the stairs, and he now seemed genuinely annoyed that she didn't believe him. Still, she didn't know him nearly well enough to take his word on such an important matter. Moreover, from what she'd seen of Megan McDonald, she was as timid as a mouse. There was no way she'd have seduced a married man who was over twenty years her senior and cajoled him into giving her a high-flying job in the cabinet, at the risk of him losing his job and his family. "Fine." She relented, walking towards the large staircase. She sensed him on her heels.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, he quietly led her to the small corridor where he'd walked in on them. He cleared his throat quietly and pointed his head towards the door to the bedroom. Mary walked over to it, and his eyes automatically lowered to her derriere - he'd spent the thirty seconds or so that it took for them to climb the staircase trying not to gaze at her perfect bottom sashaying right in front of his eyes, and now he couldn't help but think of anything else. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of someone else ascending the stairs. Mary turned to see what it was and, before he could think rationally, he grabbed her by the arms, pinned her to the wall and kissed her hard.

His hands kneaded the flesh of her waist through the thin fabric of her dress as he angled his head. The feelings that she had sparked in him from their earlier kiss in the garden quickly reignited, and he unknowingly got a little carried away. To his surprise, she didn't object when he sought entry to her mouth with his tongue, and he felt her fingers slide over his jaw and up into his hair. Their mouths moving over each other, he grew more bold. One of his hands smoothed over her hip before moving lower, until he reached the curve of her bottom. Deepening the kiss even further, he splayed his fingers and squeezed, the soft flesh feeling wonderful under his large hand. Before he knew what was happening, though, he was flying backwards.

"Wha-" He stammered, before remembering where he was and shutting himself up with a worried glance towards the bedroom door. He didn't want them to be overheard. Looking back in front of him, he saw a very irate Mary.

"What the fuck was that?" She mouthed.

Matthew gestured towards the staircase, as if to say that he was trying to cover themselves in case someone came up and asked them what they were doing in a remote part of the house. That _was _why he'd kissed her, right? Yes, of course - a quick-thinking part of his brain must have assessed all the options available to him and concluded that kissing Mary was the most sensible one.

"That was _completely_ unnecessary." Mary mouthed again, using hand gestures to provide the emphasis that her voice couldn't.

"It took you an awfully long time to protest." Matthew hissed back, rubbing his shoulder as he now realised that Mary had forcefully shoved him off her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mary whispered sarcastically, "I was too stunned by you throwing me against a wall and then groping me to act sooner." She hoped her anger was convincing enough. In truth, while she was relatively outraged that this man whom she'd only known for a week had the audacity to feel her up in a deserted corridor, the kiss and the movement of his hands had been quite enticing, and she was feeling tingles in places on her body that her mother taught her never to speak of.

Matthew was trying his hardest not to let his ears turn pink, but to no avail. He was fairly sure that they were a deep shade of crimson. One thing that made him feel marginally better about having just fondled Mary's buttock, though, was that she had also let herself get carried away not twenty minutes earlier - and she had done it in a much more public setting. Before Matthew was able to make this point, the creak of a bedroom door opening rendered him motionless. He and Mary turned to see a flustered Michael Cosgrove peeking around the door.

"Oh!" Michael blurted out, clearly shocked to see two people stood in the corridor only two metres from the bedroom. "Hello there!" He attempted to appear as his normal, jovial self. "What brings you two here?"

There was a layer of sweat over his forehead, Mary noted. It was intensifying as he spoke, as if he was nervous, but it had definitely been there as he'd opened the door. "We were just trying to find a little privacy." She smiled casually, wrapping her arm around Matthew's waist and leaning into him. She felt Matthew nod as his hand moved to rest on the small of her back. Michael was clearly flustered enough to forget that they weren't actually a couple, Matthew thought.

"Oh, how nice." Michael was now dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, a strained smile on his face. He was also curiously stood in the gap of the doorway, blocking their view of whatever was inside the room. Or _whoever_ else, Mary thought. Perhaps Matthew was onto something...

"I hope we didn't disturb you?" Matthew asked with faux-concern.

"What? Oh no, no." Michael stammered. Mary had never seen him like this before - he was one of the smoothest, most collected politicians she'd witnessed. "I was just, erm, having a little rest from the heat outside. I, too, wanted some privacy so found this bedroom to have a lie down in." He grinned widely.

"Right." Matthew deadpanned.

Just then, a small sneeze sounded from inside the bedroom. It was a woman's sneeze. Michael's eyes widened in alarm.

Mary started to take pity on him. For all his faults, he had been kind to her as she'd grown up and was one of few people to speak to her like an adult. Besides, it was an incredibly uncomfortable situation to be in and she didn't want to be the one to confront him about any possible affair or nepotism that he was involved in. "Are you watching TV?" She offered innocently. Instantly, she felt Matthew glare at her.

Michael, on the other hand, could not have looked more relieved. "Yes, I am!" He replied far too enthusiastically.

"Odd that we can't hear the rest of the show." Matthew replied pointedly, to which Mary pinched him hard on his back, where her arm was still resting.

"Anyway, we'll leave you to rest. See you later." Mary smiled. She turned and grabbed the hand of a gobsmacked Matthew, pulling him along behind her as quickly as she could before he said anything else.

"I'm sorry, but _what_!?" Matthew exclaimed, dragging her into another bedroom and shutting the door.

"What did you think was going to happen? We were going to burst into the bedroom, catch them in the throes and then publicly shame them?" Mary asked. "Do you have any idea how awkward that would have been?"

Matthew stared at her incredulously. "Wait - so we've just let the Home Secretary get away with forcing his clandestine lover into a cabinet position, at the expense of people who are actually qualified to help run the country, because you would have felt a bit 'awkward' to expose him?" This was unbelievable. He'd had a feeling that Mary would have a slightly warped view of the world, given her background and upbringing, but he had no idea that her priorities would be this twisted. "I don't even know why I'm surprised. Of course you'd remain loyal to the aristocracy, no matter what they'd done." He muttered bitterly. "That's the whole mantra of the National Party, isn't it?"

Mary inhaled deeply to stop herself from punching this man in the face. "Will you _please_ stop with your anti-establishment bullshit?" She bit at him. She'd heard enough digs at her background and she couldn't tolerate anymore.

"Look, the point is, we need to tell people about this." Matthew said, rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for the announcement.

Mary raised an eyebrow at him. This poor boy was so naive. "That's not going to happen." She shook her head.

"Pardon me?"

"Matthew, are you telling me that you think it's a good idea to sound the death-knell for this Coalition when it's in its infancy? Only one week in? People are only _just_ beginning to give it a chance! We can't ruin all of that. I think you're forgetting that our sole purpose here is to bring the two parties together. We'd be doing the complete opposite if we told anyone about this. We aren't whistleblowers - that's not our duty."

"So if I see someone break into my neighbours' house I should keep it to myself because 'technically' I'm not a member of Neighbourhood Watch and I don't want to upset my neighbour? That's bullshit." Matthew said angrily.

"This is different and you know it." Mary replied equally ferociously. "How would you feel if your father had worked his whole life to get to this position, and once he finally got there you revealed something about one of his closest confidantes that tore all his hard work apart? Would you be happy you told everyone about it?"

"My father _did_ work his whole life to get here, actually." Matthew countered. It was beginning to become rather tiresome how Mary kept treating his father and the Workers' League as if they were a subordinate party.

"Well then you know how it feels." Mary replied. "Do you really want to damage this government before it's even begun? Make our fathers a laughing-stock?"

The two fell silent, staring at each other in a battle of wills. Infuriatingly, Matthew was beginning to see her point. He still thought she was spoilt, and that she was ultimately doing this to defend a member of her social circle, rather than to preserve the dignity of the government, but he didn't want to be even partly responsible for tarnishing what his father had worked tirelessly to achieve.

"Fine." He relented quietly. "But I think we should at least tell our fathers. Then they can decide what to do about it."

Mary sighed. It would break Robert's heart if he found out that his close friend had betrayed his trust. Besides, she couldn't trust Reginald Crawley, as decent as he seemed, not to use this to his political advantage and break away from the Coalition. "I think we need to get proof first."

Matthew was close to pulling his hair out. "How much more proof do you need?!" He cried out. "I saw it with my own eyes! I saw her - you know, with her face in his lap. Her head was...bobbing all over the place and he wasn't wearing trousers! And then when he opened the door he was covered in sweat and she was still there - you heard!"

"Yes, I know that's what you saw, but I think we should investigate a little more. It might not have been her."

"You're joking, right?" Matthew was dumbfounded by her continued defence of this man.

"I'm not actually, no." Mary replied curtly. She'd thought it would be relatively straightforward to persuade Matthew to follow her view - young men like him were usually surprised enough that she had her own opinion to just go along with it without question. Matthew, however, was proving to be as strong-willed and obstinate as she was. "You didn't see her face, did you?" Matthew sighed and reluctantly shook his head. "So it could have been someone else. It obviously wasn't his wife, but it's not illegal for him to cheat on his wife and that's nobody else's business. We need to be sure that it was Megan before we say or do anything. Even if it is Megan, it may be that the affair is unconnected to her appointment. After all, Michael Cosgrove isn't the only one who gets to decide who gets appointed." Mary reasoned. "I'm just saying I think this is too significant for us to make presumptions and act hastily."

With a sigh of frustration, Matthew eventually conceded. As an accountant, he was all about facts and precision, so he couldn't really argue with her. "Alright, but we need to act quickly. I don't feel right letting this continue for weeks or months on end."

Mary nodded. "OK." Again, the two fell silent. "Can we go now? Or did you bring me in here to grope me again?" Mary said, pleased to see the colour rise in Matthew's face.

"Sorry, I forgot - you prefer to make a more public display of affection, don't you?" He recovered quickly, equally content to see Mary's smirk fall from her face as she stalked out of the room.

...

"...And this is my youngest sister, Sybil." Mary introduced her favourite sibling to Matthew, Reginald and Isobel.

The middle-class Crawleys were visiting 10 Downing Street for dinner. It was a couple of days after the garden party and Robert had decided it would be nice to have the two leaders of government dine together with their respective families. More importantly, he wanted to meet the young man with whom Mary was in a pseudo-relationship.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Matthew." Robert had said as Matthew had arrived with his parents. "It's odd to instruct my daughter to kiss a man who I've not even met." He'd laughed.

For Matthew, it was yet another strange experience in a string of strange experiences. Robert had a point, in that Matthew was a man who was kissing and being affectionate with his daughter, and so naturally Robert would want to meet and get to know him somewhat. Matthew therefore found himself slightly nervous to meet Mary's parents. Yet, it didn't actually matter what they thought of him, because he and Mary weren't in a real relationship. On the whole, though, Matthew did still seek Robert and Cora's approval. It was just in his nature to want to get along with people, he supposed. In any case, Robert Crawley was the Prime Minister, and it would always be nice to have him on your side.

"You're a very lucky man, Robert, to have three such lovely daughters." Reginald smiled genially. Edith seemed particularly pleased with this comment, given that she was often overlooked when praise was bestowed on Mary and Sybil.

Mary liked Reginald. He had Matthew's easy charm, but seemed more laid-back and unflappable. He was also surprisingly refined for a middle-class son of a post-war manufacturer. It's a shame Matthew hadn't inherited his taste in fine tailored clothing, Mary thought, observing Matthew's creased chinos. Isobel, on the other hand, was more of a scrutiniser, her eyes constantly roaming around the room and appraising the people in it. Mary sensed that she and her own mother wouldn't be the best of friends.

"They're much more of a handful than they look, Reginald, trust me." Robert chuckled as they all took a seat in the dining room.

The conversation quickly split up into several smaller discussions. Isobel began asking Sybil how she was finding university, and the pair swiftly fell into a debate about what can be done to improve the education system for women, with Cora looking on in concern - she wasn't in favour of encouraging her youngest daughter's progressive ways. Reginald thanked Mary for agreeing to go along with Operation Brangelina, adding that he found the whole concept rather preposterous and hoped that it hadn't interfered with her life too much. He then enquired with a genuine interest as to how she'd been spending her time, and she happily answered as she never got the opportunity to discuss her interests, with occasional interjections from Robert, who was sat with them.

This left Matthew to speak to Edith, who he surmised was the quietest and least confident of the three sisters. She seemed nice enough once they started talking - much less antagonistic and superficial than Mary.

"I feel for you, having to be in Mary's company so much when you did nothing to deserve it." Edith remarked. Matthew chuckled at this because he presumed it was meant light-heartedly, although he couldn't be sure because Edith wasn't smiling as she said it.

"It's not all bad." He said off-handedly. His mind immediately recalled the feeling of Mary's body between him and the wall, her tongue caressing his, and he took a sip of his wine. "It's mainly odd seeing pictures of ourselves splashed across newspapers and the internet, for the world to see. I worry that one of her ex-boyfriends will find me and beat me to a pulp." He joked.

Edith shook her head dismissively. "Mary's never really had a boyfriend, so you don't need to worry about that."

Matthew looked up sharply. "Really?" He would have been willing to bet his own mother that Mary was one of those girls who flitted from boyfriend to boyfriend. She certainly had the looks, the free time and the social connections for that kind of lifestyle.

"Yep." Edith nodded. "Everyone presumes she must have dated loads of guys, but she hardly has at all. Men tend to look at her from afar, perhaps flirt with her a little, but it never goes much further."

"Why? Are they intimidated by her?" Matthew asked. He was being very nosey, and if Isobel had overheard the conversation she would have chastised him for being so rude, but he couldn't help but delve deeper. Edith seemed fairly open about her sister's love life, anyway.

"Some of them, yes. But a lot of the time it's because she doesn't let them get too close. She can be very stand-offish so a lot of them get put off by that and don't even bother trying to ask her out." Edith explained.

Matthew could completely see that. Being stand-offish seemed to be Mary's favourite past-time.

"A lot of guys presume she's an easy target, but the truth is she's hardly been intimate with anyone." Edith continued unprompted.

"Er, right." Matthew said, beginning to feel that this conversation had gone too far. Edith seemed to enjoy disparaging Mary, but it didn't seem fair to Mary to keep talking about such intimate details of her life. Still, this insight was very interesting to Matthew. Who'd have thought that, of the two of them, it would be Matthew who was the more sexually experienced one?

Smug with that knowledge, Matthew turned back to his meal.

...

A couple of days later, and Matthew and Mary were back in Mary's old house for a meeting with the PR teams. Tonight was another important event, on a similar scale to the fundraiser.

"Right, now then," Nigel clapped his hands together as he took his seat. "Matthew and Mary are both here, Eric is here, Jacob is here, Nicholas is here to take notes," He nodded towards his sixteen-year-old son who was assisting him as part of his work experience over the summer holidays, "So I believe we are now quorate and the meeting can begin."

Matthew raised his eyebrows at the formality. When he'd been asked to attend the meeting, he'd presumed it would just be a quick chat over some tea and biscuits. Across the mahogany table, Mary rolled her eyes at Nigel's bureaucratic nature, twirling her hair around her finger with a look of utter boredom on her face. Matthew smirked at her.

"Well, I think we can all agree that press coverage has largely been positive." Nigel continued. "The Daily Express went so far as to call you the 'hope of the nation'!"

"Yes, that was quite an overstatement but a welcome one nonetheless." Jacob remarked. "Our main contenders are The Guardian and the Independent, who continually suggest that the relationship is a ploy. Certain bloggers on the internet are beginning to pick up on it, too, so I think we need to ramp up the public appearances a bit."

"That's exactly what we're doing tonight, Jacob." Eric said patronisingly. "The Prince's Trust annual dinner is one of the largest social events in the political calendar. A few celebrities will be attending, too."

"I know that." Jacob said stubbornly. "But I think we need to make more low-key appearances too. Look at the celebrity couples nowadays - most pictures of them are when they're walking down the street or canoodling at a tennis match. If Matthew and Mary are hardly seen outside widely-publicised events then it'll seem suspicious."

Nigel nodded his head in understanding. "Quite right, Jacob, quite right. Nicholas, make sure you write down 'tennis match'." Nicholas, slumped in his chair and looking about as interested in this meeting as Mary was, scrawled something down on his notepad. Nigel turned to Matthew and Mary. "I can get you good seats at Wimbledon."

"Great, thanks..." Matthew said, although he wasn't sure how thankful he was for such a bizarre gift. Mary merely gave Nigel a sarcastic thumbs-up, prompting Matthew to chuckle quietly. Her attitude was a lot more entertaining when it wasn't directed at him.

"So after tonight we'll devise some other sightings for you two." Nigel continued. "It will mean having to spend more of your evenings and weekends together, though."

Matthew and Mary each shrugged nonchalantly, hoping that the other couldn't sense their small but unwanted frisson of excitement.

"So...anything else?" Nigel asked, looking around the table. He was clearly realising that there was no need for such a formal meeting and was trying to find more topics of discussion to justify it. "Anything from you two?" He asked Matthew and Mary. "You're doing a great job, by the way. You do seem much more comfortable with each other, which is good. That, erm, kiss at the garden party was a little daring but effective-"

"OK, I think that's enough for today." Mary interrupted, and Matthew was amused to see her blushing. "Can we please go now?"

"Yes, yes, very well." Nigel replied. He seemed glad to be relieved of having to talk about their kiss. "Nicholas, have those notes typed up for me."

"You want me to type up _this_?" Nicholas held up his notepad, which had the words 'Daily Express', 'tennis match' and 'kiss' written on it.

"Forget it." Nigel sighed wearily, collecting his things and quickly shaking hands with everyone before leaving with Eric, Jacob on their heels.

"Well that certainly wasn't a waste of time." Matthew said drily as he stood up. "I need to explain to my boss why I'm late for work."

"Just tell him you're dating the Prime Minister's daughter and if he has a problem with that then he can take it up with the Prime Minister himself." Mary retorted.

"If I was dating you then I'd definitely tell everyone about it." Nicholas interjected, summoning what he obviously considered to be his most alluring gaze. Matthew shot him a glare. Nicholas was one of those teenage boys who believed they were blessed with a God-given gift to womanise. "I wish I could come to the dinner tonight." Nicholas added.

"Sorry, only people who've done their GCSEs are invited." Matthew said, causing Mary to laugh.

...

After an hour or so of mingling with representatives from the whole political spectrum, with a few television personalities and athletes thrown in for good measure, Matthew and Mary finally took their seats at the dinner table in the hall of the grand hotel.

"It's exhausting, isn't it, all this small talk?" Matthew sighed. "I have a new-found respect for people who do this for a living."

"Why, thank you." Mary replied, hinting at her life of attending functions and networking, and she and Matthew shared a smile. Soon, they were joined by the other diners at their table, an assortment of politicians and one Manchester United footballer with his wife.

Matthew, being an ardent supporter from his days growing up in Manchester, quickly fell into conversation with him. Unusually, the footballer himself was also originally from Manchester, so the two swapped stories of the schools they went to and where they would go out.

"You really did that?" Mary asked with surprise as Matthew relayed an anecdote about him and his friend trying to sneak into a local nightclub when they were seventeen.

"Yeah." Matthew said defensively. "Only because there was an eighteen year old girl in there that I fancied." He added with a mischievous smirk that made Mary's stomach flutter.

"Lucky girl." Mary said enigmatically, such that Matthew couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Do you two not go clubbing much now, then?" The footballer asked, and Matthew and Mary suddenly remembered that they need to act as if they know each other well.

"No, not really...we tend to, er, stay in most nights." Matthew replied as smoothly as possible.

"I know what you mean, mate." The footballer winked at Matthew, obviously inferring from Matthew's reply that he and Mary preferred to romp around in the house. Matthew swallowed hard at the notion.

As dinner progressed, people began to rise from their seats and mingle again. This made it much more difficult for Mary to peruse the room to find Michael Cosgrove and/or Megan McDonald - she and Matthew had agreed they'd try to do some digging tonight. She turned her head to ask Matthew whether they should wander around the room to find them, only to feel Matthew's arm wrap around her shoulders. He gently tilted her chin up with his index finger and thumb, and dipped his head to kiss her. The kiss was very different to the ones they'd shared so far - it was sweet, and so painfully slow that Mary's toes curled in her shoes.

He pulled away, and it took Mary a moment or two to regain her faculties.

"I saw a photographer coming this way so I thought this would be a good opportunity." Matthew whispered, rubbing his nose affectionately against hers, giving onlookers all the pretence of a romantic moment between them. "I can't tell if he's passed by yet, though."

"Maybe we should stay like this for a little while. To be sure, I mean." Mary whispered back, feeling light-headed. Matthew merely hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through Mary, and he kissed her again, his fingers playing over her neck and sending shivers down her spine.

"I think that should do it." He murmured, breaking the kiss after a few moments.

Mary realised that she had bunched the tablecloth into her fist, knocking over her wine glass in the process.

...

"Quick, this way!" Mary whispered behind her as she turned right at the juncture.

A couple of hours had passed since dinner; now, most guests were in the ballroom dancing to the live band, making it very easy for Matthew to spot Michael Cosgrove leave the room with Megan McDonald. Annoyingly for Matthew, who wanted indisputable proof of their affair as soon as possible, another woman also left the room with them. Nevertheless, he tugged Mary's hand and the two swiftly exited the room, intent on following the trio as they navigated their path through the hotel.

"Careful," Matthew grabbed Mary's arm to halt her movements when he thought they were getting too close. If Cosgrove suspected they were onto him, he'd ramp up the secrecy and they would never be able to get any proof. Once he was satisfied that the group had all entered the same room, he and Mary crept up towards it. Thankfully, the woman whom they didn't recognise had left the door slightly ajar, which Matthew hoped would enable them to hear the conversation better.

What wasn't so fortunate was that the few glasses of wine that he and Mary had each had rendered their movements less gentle as they could have been, and Mary stumbled slightly on a creaky floorboard. Almost immediately, the door to the study swung open.

Acting quickly, Mary slid her arms around Matthew, underneath his suit jacket, and started kissing his jaw just as the woman stepped outside to investigate the noise. "Oh, hello." She said to the woman, appearing to be taken by surprise. She swayed on her feet as if more tipsy than she actually was.

"Are you lost?" The woman asked sternly.

"No, no. My boyfriend and I were just leaving this room that we found open," Mary nodded her head towards the room directly behind them. "But don't tell anyone!" She giggled.

Playing along, Matthew laughed too. "I better get her home." He said to the woman, stroking Mary's back fondly. Her body was pressed right up against his and she was placing 'drunken', sloppy kisses along his jaw. "Come on, darling." He turned around and they both walked away, turned the corner and then stopped. They waited silently until they could hear the faint sound of the door closing.

"Come on." Mary didn't want to waste any time in eavesdropping. Matthew followed behind her. It was going to be more difficult now that the door was shut, frustratingly.

Tip-toeing closer to the door, Mary looked behind to see what was taking Matthew so long. He eyed her anxiously from a few paces away. "What if she comes back out?" He mouthed.

"We're drunk, remember?" Mary mouthed back. Honestly, did he think she hadn't thought it through? Matthew seemed relatively impressed, and edged nearer. Mary stood next to the wall of the room that the trio had gone into, but the sounds emanating through it were muffled. Tutting lightly to herself, she angled her head so that her ear was pressed against it. Her eyes lit up and she nodded to Matthew to indicate that she could hear what was being said.

Matthew quickly moved to do the same. He could hear the woman's voice - she was saying something about "emissions" and "regulations". It sounded like they were just discussing new environmental legislation, or something to do with the Environment Secretary, Matthew thought disappointedly. However, then the woman said something curious - she started talking about her niece. At least, that's what it sounded like.

Matthew turned his head to see if Mary was as confused as he was, when one of the other room doors opened. Neither of them had bargained for this to happen, but it made sense given that they were in a famous hotel in Central London that was likely to always be fully-booked.

Now accustomed to being caught lurking outside rooms, Matthew and Mary quickly joined at the lips again. The hotel guests seemed to be a young family all staying in one room, and the parents took a while to cajole their toddler into leaving the room. This gave Matthew and Mary the opportunity to deepen their kiss - not that they needed to, of course, but it seemed to happen automatically, most likely because of the small amount of Dutch courage flowing through their veins.

Matthew pressed himself closer to Mary. She looked amazing that night, wearing a fitted dress that clung to her shapely figure, which he was now enjoying exploring with his hands. She didn't seem to object - in fact, she had his hair between her fingers and was holding his head closer to further deepen the kiss, while her other hand roamed over his shoulder and chest. This was all making it near-impossible for Matthew to concentrate on the matter at hand, but he managed to keep an ear open to hear what was going on around them. At least if the mysterious woman came out of the room again, they would seem drunk enough that she wouldn't suspect them of being up to anything. With that in mind, Matthew's slightly drugged brain reasoned that they would seem more convincingly drunk if they were more inappropriate. He slid his hand lower down Mary's body until it reached her bottom. There was no shove at his shoulder this time - instead, surprisingly, Mary moaned quietly into his mouth, and he thought he felt her press her chest against his more fully. Spurred on by this, despite being somewhat confused by her acquiescence, he continued to caress here there. Needing to break away for breath, he moved his lips to her neck. Her skin was like silk, and he could smell her fragrance as he tasted her. God, he could definitely keep doing this for a long, long time. She seemed to be enjoying herself too, from what he could gather. Obviously, she couldn't hit him while there were on-lookers, but he figured she would have pinched him or indicated her disapproval in some other way if she'd wanted him to stop.

He heard the couple walk past them, let out a small gasp - either at recognition of who Matthew and Mary were, or at the fact that they were being rather lewd in front of a toddler, or both - and walk away. Without stopping what he was doing in case he was mistaken, he mumbled against Mary's neck, "Mary, are they gone?"

Mary merely hummed softly in return, and Matthew could have sworn she tilted her head to give him better access. He kissed his way up to her ear. "Mary," He whispered directly into it.

"Hmm?" She jumped into action, her eyes springing open.

"Are they gone?" He asked, smiling inwardly. She _had_ been enjoying it.

"Oh, erm," Mary cleared her throat and removed her hands from where they were buried in Matthew's hair, "yeah, they are." She averted her gaze, instead glancing in the middle distance or at the chandelier hanging in the corridor. She had definitely enjoyed that kiss far too much, and was trying to tame the effects it had had on her body. It was baffling to think that this utterly normal, middle-class accountant could make her feel so randy within seconds of kissing her.

Matthew removed his hands from her body, regretting the loss of contact. They were on a mission, however, and they needed to focus. He moved back to press his ear against the wall, trying to piece fragments of the conversation together. He saw Mary do likewise, although her cheeks were still flushed and her lips pinker than usual.

"That's true," Michael Cosgrove's voice said, "although we'd face a lot of obstacles from the House of Commons."

"You've dealt with difficult MPs before, haven't you?" The woman said. "With Megan here, you should have no problem. She can be very persuasive, as I'm sure you know." There was a wry undertone to that last sentence that didn't escape Matthew's notice. There was definitely a double-meaning there.

"Yes, yes," Michael chuckled nervously, "...anyway, I fear my absence will be noticed if I stay here too much longer." The scraping of a chair suggested that he was standing up to leave. Matthew and Mary looked at each other and carefully made their way back towards the ballroom before they were caught again.

* * *

_A/N: yes, another update! To all the kind people who have asked about Incentive and Above All Things, I am intending on updating those too, and am part-way through the next chapter for Above All Things, but I just need to wait for inspiration to hit. In the meantime, I'm having so much fun writing this fic and I've managed to find the time to do so this week so I thought I might as well crack on! Please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you :) xxx_


	5. Chapter 5

"So you just, like, go to work every morning and then come back every evening?" Mary asked curiously.

Matthew smirked as he looked up from his book. "Yes, I know it's a difficult concept to grasp." Mary seemed oddly intrigued by his life as an accountant.

"Doesn't it get boring? Doing the same thing every day?" Mary asked, sitting down in one of the armchairs to put her heels on. It was Friday night and the pair were due to make an appearance at Visage, a brand new, swanky club in Mayfair. It was more of a celebrity haunt than a spot for politicians' children, but it was the sort of place Mary would usually frequent anyway, so the PR teams thought it would an ideal place for Matthew and Mary to be seen and inject some glamour into the political sphere.

"Sometimes, I suppose." Matthew shrugged. "It helps knowing that most adults in the country have a similar routine. How on Earth are you going to walk in those?" He eyed her sky-high stilettos warily.

"They're not so bad. I've had years of practice, Matthew." Mary stood up and waltzed around the living room in front of him to demonstrate her skill. Matthew laughed, and she noticed uneasily that she derived some form of pleasure from making him laugh.

"You're very talented. I'm sorry I doubted you." Matthew replied. "So are you all ready to go?" He asked, closing the book and setting it down. After realising how long it took Mary to get ready, he'd left a book at her old house which he read whenever he went to pick her up for one of their dates.

"Yep, let me just grab my phone." Mary made her way to the kitchen where she'd left it. There was one missed call from her father. It had been a while since he'd called her, especially since he became Prime Minister. She frowned gently as she called him back.

"Hello, darling." Her father's voice greeted her.

"Hi, Dad. Did you call earlier?"

"I did, but it wasn't anything important. I just wanted to see how you were getting on. Nigel tells me you and Matthew are going out again this evening."

"Yeah, we are." Mary replied. "Everything's going fine."

"Matthew's not being inappropriate with you, is he?" Robert's fatherly concern made itself known.

Mary swallowed nervously. Rubbing his hands all over her bottom and French kissing her wasn't exactly 'appropriate', but Mary wasn't about to divulge those details to her father. Besides, she hadn't exactly discouraged that behaviour... "Not at all." She said as nonchalantly as she could.

"Good, good. It would be remiss of me not to ask." Robert laughed lightly. "There are many men who would seek to take advantage, but Matthew seemed like a nice chap when I met him. It's too bad he's on the other side." He laughed again.

"I thought we were all on the same side now?" Mary teased.

"For now, yes. I know you're a careful girl but I want you to bear in mind that this is only a temporary measure - this 'Brangelina' business, or whatever it's called. Once it's all over, we can find you a more suitable man, someone who shares our background and values." Robert made what he thought was an appealing promise.

"Great." Mary replied drily, but her lack of sincerity escaped the notice of her busy father.

"Anyway, I must be going, have fun tonight, darling! I'll speak to you soon."

"Bye, Dad." Mary hung up. A deep sigh. He hadn't told her anything she didn't know already, but it still felt rather disappointing to be told that Matthew was completely off limits.

"How do you manage to make even the simplest task last an absolute age?" Matthew's bemused voice called as he approached the kitchen to see what was taking her so long.

"I'm sorry, we don't all have punctuality drilled into our brains from doing a 9-to-5 everyday." Mary retorted, fetching her handbag.

"A 9-to-5 would do you some good. Although you would be awful for the first few months at least." Matthew teased, knowing she wouldn't take offence.

"Well, it's a good thing I'll never have to do one, isn't it?" Mary led the way to the front door.

"I wouldn't be so sure – you'll need a back-up plan for when the wrinkles and grey hair appear." Matthew cajoled, grabbing his jacket as he walked behind her.

"Shut up." Mary bit back, stepping outside where the cab was waiting for them.

...

Mary felt her phone vibrate in her clutch. Pulling it out, she saw she'd received a message from Nigel.

"_Make sure you two are seen dancing together."_

She rolled her eyes to herself. This was ridiculous. Well, part of her thought it was ridiculous. The other part was grateful to Nigel for giving her an excuse to be close to Matthew again, as they'd been apart for twenty minutes or so. He was currently chatting to a blonde girl at the bar, who had walked over to him as he'd been waiting to buy Mary and himself drinks. She watched as they spoke animatedly, Matthew smiling as he chatted and making the girl laugh. Mary realised that they'd never spoken like that. Their encounters were always filled with wry jibes at each other and debates, not so much with light-hearted banter or pleasant conversations. It was just wasn't in Mary's nature to be delightful or fun, someone to have a laugh with while chatting at the bar. She could flirt, undoubtedly, but her approach was more reserved and slow-paced. An approach that not many twenty-first century men had the patience for, she'd come to learn.

Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, she walked over to where Matthew was. The girl was now standing very close to him, making Mary more determined to get her dance with him. It was comforting in a way to know that Matthew _had_ to pay attention to her, so she had no reason to fear his dismissal or him throwing her over for the blonde girl or any of the other women who were eyeing him up from a distance.

"Hey - did you manage to get our drinks?" She asked, pushing her way between them.

"Oh hey," Matthew smiled upon seeing her, "Sorry, I was just chatting to Alice here and got distracted."

"Nice to meet you." Alice said to Mary, with an insincerity that Mary immediately recognised. It was the insincerity of a girl who was out to tempt someone else's boyfriend.

With a cursory, wan smile to the girl, Mary turned back to Matthew. "It doesn't matter - let's dance." She held his hand and pulled him towards the dancefloor, hearing him offer a quick apology to the girl for leaving so hurriedly. They found a spot to dance in the middle of the crowd, just barely. The lack of space meant they had to stand very close together. "Nigel said we should be seen dancing." Mary explained, not wanting him to think that this was all her idea, in case he misconstrued her intentions.

He smiled at her amusedly. "It's alright, Mary. I wouldn't mind if you actually wanted to dance. We're at a club." He wanted her to loosen up a bit. He was sure she had it in her - he'd seen pictures and video clips of her at various parties with other socialites and, while she always remained dignified, she definitely knew how to enjoy herself if she wanted to. Tonight, for some reason, she'd been subdued and a little stiff. He wasn't a huge fan of partying, but they were there together in a fancy club and he felt they ought to make the most of it - they were young and should have a little fun. He rested his hands on her hips as they began to sway to the music, their bodies almost pressing against each other.

Mary cursed inwardly. The club and the mass of people around them had made her warm enough as it was, but now Matthew's proximity and his touch were making her even more heated. He kissed her, and then again, his tongue just grazing her top lip. Mary gulped. If she'd wanted to, she could have dry-humped him in the middle of the dancefloor without anyone batting an eyelid because it was so crowded, and it could have all been in the name of Operation Brangelina. She knew he was only kissing her out of duty, but all the same it was invoking feelings in her that she didn't like. At the moment, it was just physical attraction, a crush, but there was no way she could let that develop into anything more lustful. The idea of them trying to date in real life was laughable and simply out of the question, as the Prime Minister himself had reminded her a couple of hours earlier.

Matthew settled his hands lower on her hips and moved his lips to her neck, where he began placing wet kisses. Mary involuntarily clutched at his shoulder. This was too much. Between the heat, the music pumping through her, the crowd writhing around her, the feel of Matthew's mouth moving along her skin and his firm body against hers, she was beginning to feel delirious. This was very dangerous territory. If she didn't check herself then she was at risk of doing something stupid.

She let go of his shoulder and pushed at his chest. He stepped back a little, looking up at her questioningly. "Sorry, I don't have to kiss you, I just thought-" he began.

Mary shook her head, "No, it's-" She hesitated, not knowing what exactly she wanted to say. "Look, I need to go."

"OK, I'll get a cab." Matthew said, frowning in confusion at her behaviour.

"No, I need to go on my own. You stay here." Mary said hastily, looking for a gap through which she could squeeze herself through the crowd and escape. "I'm sorry, I'll see you later." She called over her shoulder, leaving him behind.

...

Popping her sunglasses on top of her head, Mary skipped up the steps to her house. After last night, she'd woken up early to go to the gym to work out the tension that she'd been feeling. It had helped - after a few hours of deep sleep and an hour hitting a punch-bag at the gym, she felt much better about her Matthew-related problem. He was a handsome young man, intelligent and gentlemanly, and she was being made to kiss and caress him on a regular basis. So _of course_ her body would betray her and tell her that she had feelings for him. It would happen to any woman in her situation! It would happen if she was with any other man who ticked the same boxes! It didn't mean anything. Her mind knew better than to believe what her hormones were insisting was the case.

She was Lady Mary Crawley, and she had a queue of eligible men who would love to date her. The vast majority of them would for some reason never actually ask her out, but she could work on that. Matthew was just a favour for her father, nothing more.

This epiphany had arrived just in time, as immediately after her shower in the gym she'd received a frantic text message from Nigel reading: "_URGENT MEETING AT YOUR OLD HOUSE. BE THERE ASAP."_

Mary supposed the emergency was that one unfavourable photo had leaked to the internet, amidst the dozens of photos of her and Matthew coupled up, and Nigel classified this as a catastrophe that necessitated a full board meeting.

"Mary! Finally." Nigel called as she walked in the room. Eric, Jacob and Nicholas - who was still doing work experience as his father's assistant - were in the room. "Where's Matthew?"

"I don't know, Nigel." Mary replied calmly. "I'm not his keeper."

"Clearly not." Eric scoffed. Mary looked at him with a frown.

"What's going on?" She asked, noticing the tension in the faces of the PR team. Even Jacob, who was usually the most rational and laid-back of the spin doctors, was tapping his foot on the floor at a worryingly rapid pace.

"You don't know?" Eric asked incredulously. Mary shook her head.

To her right, Nicholas started laughing. "Matthew shagged some blonde woman last night!"

"What?" Mary exclaimed. Then it dawned on her - Alice, that bitch at the bar. She would have tried it on with him again after Mary left and they must have been photographed together, sparking rumours. "Oh, _that_."

"I thought you didn't know about it?" Jacob asked.

Mary waved her hand dismissively. "Some girl at the club last night was trying to chat him up. I left early and she must have made her move again and then told everyone they'd spent the night together. How desperate." She said, feeling inexplicably angry that someone would claim Matthew as theirs, even for one night.

"I'm afraid it's not just her word that we're contending with, Mary." Eric said impatiently. "If it was, don't you think we'd be able to handle that? We're not amateurs, you know."

"Matthew's neighbour spilled the beans." Nicholas interjected excitedly, apparently thrilled by this saucy development. "He lives next door. He could hear them through the wall, and he presumed Matthew must have brought you back. He snuck out to take a photo of you leaving but instead got a picture of some fit blonde bird leaving his flat at 3am."

A sinking feeling settled in Mary's gut. Matthew had _slept _with someone else?

"Cheeky devil, I wouldn't have thought Matthew had it in him. She looks _fit." _Nicholas reiterated. "The neighbour said they were going at it for ages-"

"Nicholas, please." Nigel silenced his teenage son. He turned to a rather pale-looking Mary. "The point is, this neighbour has now sold the picture to the Daily Mail and it's on the front page of the hard copy _and_ the main story on their website." He tossed a print edition towards Mary. She picked it up to examine the large colour photo on the front page. Sure enough, there was Matthew, stood in the doorway to his flat, with Alice a little ahead of him as she left. His hair was mussed and he appeared to be topless, although his body wasn't in full view. The headline ran: "FRACTURE IN THE COALITION? MYSTERY BLONDE IN ONE-NIGHT STAND SHOCKER."

"I'm sure there's an explanation." She said with more confidence than she felt. Matthew wouldn't be so stupid, would he? He was a sensible man. Not the type to have one-night stands. Or so she'd thought. It dawned on her that she didn't _actually_ know Matthew very well at all. Even so, he certainly seemed too intelligent to bed another woman while he was supposed to be in a high-profile relationship.

"We hope so, too." Nigel sighed. "Ah, here he is."

Mary spun around to see Matthew enter the room, looking more than a little worse for wear.

"Matthew, mate - well done." Nicholas said reverently, standing up to greet him as if receiving the Pope.

To Mary's disgust, Matthew smirked a little bit at this, although he didn't respond. Was he _proud_ of what he'd done?! He didn't meet her eyes, so he couldn't see the daggers that she was throwing at him.

"Before you say anything-" Matthew held his hands up as he saw all three PR men open their mouths at once. "I'm sorry - I know I was an idiot and I shouldn't have done it."

The three older men let out a collective sigh of resignation. They'd all been hoping that there'd be some rationale behind the neighbour's account and the photograph that didn't involve sex.

"You've made things exceedingly difficult for us now, Matthew. Exceedingly difficult." Eric said huffily. "We won't go into the exact reasons behind what you did - that's your business - but we need to figure out how to spin this so it doesn't seem like you've just cheated on the Prime Minister's daughter."

"I'm thinking: masseuse." Nigel said. "She visited you to give you a massage for an injury that you sustained while playing sport. You play rugby, don't you?"

"Er, I haven't played in about two years..." Matthew replied. "But I do play badminton every Sunday and go for runs every now and then, if that helps." He offered weakly.

"That might work." Jacob said. "Or it could be an old rugby injury that flared up again while you were dancing last night, and you had to call an emergency masseuse!" He said enthusiastically.

"Do you have to dial 999 for that?" Nicholas quipped, falling silent as his father gave him a stern look.

"Yes, yes, we can spin this." Nigel said, pacing and stroking his chin in deep thought. "In the meantime, we need to deal with this neighbour, destroy his credibility. Do you know anything about him, Matthew? Is he involved in anything dodgy?"

"You're not going to try to blackmail him, are you?" Matthew asked with concern. He was slightly dumbfounded by the strong reaction that his spontaneous little escapade had evoked.

"No, but we need to come up with some dirt on him, pronto." Eric said. "We can't let this story spiral any further."

"Why don't you have a think about what information you can give us, and in the meantime we'll look at the possibility of getting an injunction so that he doesn't say anything else." Nigel said to Matthew. "And we'll try to track down this Alice woman so that she doesn't say anything either. We'll probably need to pay her off. I'm guessing you didn't get her phone number, or address or anything like that? Surname, even?"

Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly, the colour rising in his cheeks. "Erm, no." He said quietly. Nigel nodded in acknowledgement.

"We've all been there, mate." Jacob winked at Matthew as the PR men left the room, Nigel dragging his son away before he could quiz Matthew about the precise events of the night before.

Matthew and Mary were left in the room alone. Matthew was forced to finally look at her, having avoided her gaze thus far, and he was met with quite possibly the stoniest expression he'd ever seen.

"I don't need to hear it from you too, Mary." Matthew said wearily, taking a seat and pre-empting her outburst. "I've already had a bollocking from my parents at 6am. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your mother yell at you for sleeping with someone after seeing a picture of you with them in a national newspaper?"

Mary remained silent, her jaw set tightly as she busied herself with neatening up the pile of newspapers that Nigel and co had bought that morning.

"Look, I am really sorry." Matthew said, presuming she was so angry because he was damaging the Coalition's already fragile reputation. After all, she'd been reticent to act upon the Cosgrove/McDonald discovery for that very reason. "But these guys know what they're doing," he said, referring to the PR team, "they've covered up worse stories in their time. It'll blow over."

Still, Mary remained quiet. "Why did you do it?" She asked eventually, her eyes still angry.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The truth was, he didn't quite know why he'd done it. All he remembered was being thoroughly confused when Mary left him alone in the club. Up until that point, he'd thought they'd been making progress. They'd been getting along better, and had even teamed up to investigate the potential Cosgrove affair. Plus, she'd seemed to be increasingly receptive to his attentions, even to the point where she'd seemed to be enjoying them. He hadn't expected anything to really happen between them, given that they had nothing in common, but he thought they could at least enjoy each other's company and learn to laugh at the circumstances they'd found themselves in. He'd even thought that they might be able to enjoy the more intimate aspect of their fake relationship, in a kind of no-strings-attached way.

Her odd behaviour at the club had therefore thrown him. She'd put her guard up again, and seemed to be acting strictly under Nigel's orders with no desire to engage with him otherwise - she'd only come up to him at the bar because Nigel had told her to dance with him, for instance. When he'd started kissing her on the dancefloor, it had half been for the purposes of Operation Brangelina, and half just for the hell of it. They were young, unattached, and he was pretty sure they were both attracted to each other, so why not dabble in a bit of harmless kissing? That had been his thought process, until Mary had pushed him away and abruptly left. That had, for want of a better term, pissed him off. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was mixed signals - he much preferred to be honest and straightforward. He felt that Mary had been messing him around and he didn't like it one bit.

She wasn't worth the hassle, he'd decided. She might be beautiful, but she was a socialite, and as spoilt and stuck-up as you'd expect. If she didn't want to enjoy his company, then that was up to her. Besides, they only had a limited amount of time to spend together - a couple more weeks, at most.

This new thought process had been bolstered by a few drinks that he'd bought himself at the bar. While he was on his third vodka and Coke, Alice had returned. She was very pretty and easy to talk to, Matthew had noted. It didn't feel like a struggle just to get a friendly word out of her, and she openly showed her interest in him. When she'd kissed him, therefore, he hadn't backed away. Why would he? He wasn't really in a relationship, so he wouldn't be cheating on anyone. Mary certainly didn't seem like she'd give two hoots if he spent the night with someone else. In his slightly inebriated state, he saw no reason why he should pass up the opportunity of enjoying himself just because the media thought he was going out with some posh woman who happened to be the Prime Minister's daughter. _Screw her_, he'd thought.

It was only when Alice left his apartment later that night, by which point he had completely sobered up, that he realised the ramifications of his actions. His father, the government, the entire plan that they'd concocted and worked at over the last fortnight. For that, he was truly sorry. But he had, in a sense, been perfectly entitled to do what he did, and for that he wasn't going to apologise. Especially not to Mary.

"I did it for the same reason that lots of people take someone home with them." He said evasively, with a shrug that only served to infuriate Mary more.

"Matthew - you had _sex_ with someone while we're supposed to be in a relationship!" She exclaimed.

"I know that!" Matthew exclaimed back. "We're not in a relationship, though, are we?"

"No, I know." Mary said defensively. She didn't want it to seem like she was hurt that he had been with someone else, but it was difficult to conceal when it was so fresh. Part of her anger was her frustration with herself for being so bothered by it in the first place. "That's not why I'm angry."

"Then why are you angry?" Matthew said impatiently.

"Because you've put everything at risk! The Coalition is still rocky and we were the only thing helping to boost public opinion, and now-"

"I've already apologised for that." Matthew interrupted. "And I'll do whatever I can to help repair the damage I've caused. What else do you want me to do?"

Mary merely shook her head, her hands continuing to fidget with the newspapers on the table in front of her. "You're an idiot."

This riled Matthew up. Who she was to judge him? "Thanks very much for that, Mary, that's really helpful." He stood up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, I agree that I'm an idiot. Does that make you feel better? Why are you so angry about this? It's not like you could give a damn about my life. I'm within my rights to sleep with as many women as I want to."

"Do you do this a lot? Pick up random women at clubs and take them home?" Mary wasn't sure what possessed her to ask this, given that it wasn't relevant, but she wanted to know and the adrenaline prevented her from filtering it out before she spoke.

Matthew stared at her incredulously - this was none of her business! "So what if I do? I'm single, and if I'm out somewhere and an attractive woman wants to sleep with me then, yes, sometimes I do indulge myself." This was a little misleading - Matthew had only ever had a couple of one-night stands, and on neither occasion did he wake up feeling fulfilled. He much preferred being in a relationship, or at least dating someone, before being that intimate. Still, he wasn't going to divulge all of this to Mary, not when she was being so judgmental.

"You're disgusting." Mary replied. She was vaguely aware that she was being harsh on him - he wasn't any different to the majority of men their age and he hadn't actually wronged anyone - but she was hurt that he would kiss her on the dancefloor (even if it was only out of duty) and then move onto another woman as soon as she left.

This woman was unbelievable. "I'm 'disgusting', am I? Look, Mary, I'm sorry that you never get any action, but if you stopped being so stuck up your own arse then maybe men would approach you and you'd understand what I'm saying." He blurted out, recalling his conversation with Edith and using it as ammunition against Mary. It was only when he saw the thinly-concealed hurt in Mary's expression that he regretted having said it.

"You're a bastard." She said to him, before picking up her bag and leaving.

_A/N: sorry! I know you were all happy to see things progress between Matthew and Mary, but I wanted to throw a spanner in the works, just to keep things interesting. I hope it didn't seem too OOC for Matthew, but I figured he's a twenty-first century man so he's more likely than not to do something like this at least once in his life! Let me know your thoughts xxx_


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew dragged his feet behind him as he approached Mary's house. He doubted she'd let him in. To be honest, he'd probably judge her if she did.

Just when he thought his life had reached the peak of surrealism when he and Mary were thrust together to pursue a fake romance, the last 24 hours hit him. His stupid night of passion - if you could call it that - had cost him much more than he'd bargained for. It wasn't fair, he thought to himself petulantly. How many men out there sleep around with countless women and never face any repercussions? Yet, here he was, one drunken fumble and the entire country hated him within hours. Well, not the entire country. The sceptics, who had disbelieved the romance between him and Mary all along, were quite glad to find more evidence to back their arguments. At least he had _their_ support, Matthew thought glumly.

Nigel and co had done an impressive job of stemming the potential sources of incriminating information - namely, Matthew's neighbour (to whom Matthew would no longer be lending milk) and Alice. The media therefore didn't have anything further to talk about or speculate on beyond the photograph and the short account from the neighbour. To everyone's surprise, it had transpired that there actually _was_ a 24-hour massage company operating in Matthew's area. It sounded like a euphemism for something a lot saucier, but the PR machines cited this fact and managed to explain away the groans and sighs that the neighbour had heard through the adjoining wall as being Matthew's pain at having his injured back kneaded by a professional masseuse - it also explained why Matthew appeared to be topless in the photo. The small massage parlour was so pleased to be mentioned in the national press that they didn't bother to point out that no blonde woman worked there. The spin doctors even got a physiotherapist who had treated Matthew for a torn ligament in his back a year earlier to give a statement about it, carefully omitting that the injury had been sustained from trying to lift a heavy box when he was moving flat rather than from playing rugby.

To Matthew's embarrassment, his own father - the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom - was asked about the incident in a press conference. Already armed with a prepared response, Reginald had calmly explained that his son had most certainly not cheated on Lady Mary Crawley and that he was a caring, sensible man who would never do such a thing. It was a clever reply, in that it directly addressed the question without technically lying. Matthew _hadn't_ cheated on Mary, although he had come to realise that he had betrayed her trust to an extent. Thankfully, Reginald was so well-respected and amiable that his word settled the matter in the minds of a large proportion of the public. Still, many people preferred to gossip and speculate on what Matthew may have been up to.

Throwing everything that he could at this cover-up, Nigel instructed Matthew to walk around London with a crutch for a little while. He'd tried to make Mary accompany him, to portray herself as the concerned girlfriend who was in no way spurned, but Mary had outrightly refused. Or so Matthew was told. He hadn't actually spoken to her since she'd called him a bastard and walked out of her own house.

Reaching the back door that he always entered through, Matthew sighed deeply. Things could have been worse, he mused. Thankfully, Alice had kissed him very discreetly, out of anyone's sight in the back corner of the club. It would have been impossible to explain away a sighting or photograph of them being physically together, irrespective of how creative the PR machines were.

There was one other issue that was troubling him, though. This one was more difficult to think about than the others, and so Matthew insisted on pushing it to the back of his mind...

...

Closing the magazine that she was reading and tossing it to the side, Mary let out a breath of frustration. She felt shit.

The most annoying thing about feeling shit, other than the feeling itself, was that the cause of it was something that shouldn't bother her this much, if at all. Initially, she'd been at a loss as to why the revelation about Matthew had thrown her into such a bad mood, but now she was beginning to form some ideas.

Despite it having been only a fortnight since they met, by yesterday morning she'd been fairly sure that she knew what sort of person he was. After all, he was a middle-class accountant and came across as eminently sensible and, in her initial opinion at least, rather vanilla. Upon closer inspection and spending more time together, she'd discovered that he did actually have some depth to him. He had more of a backbone than she'd anticipated and was very clever. His social skills were actually better than she would've thought, too. While he disliked the excessive media attention they were getting to the point that it rendered him uncomfortable, and while he told stupid jokes and was known to become flustered quite easily, he was able to engage people and keep their attention. He'd kept a swathe of women hanging on his every word at the garden party, hadn't he?

Still, Mary had been sure that his relatively unassuming nature signified a reservedness that she also possessed. It was odd, she supposed, that she should presume this given the fact that they had both brazenly kissed and touched each other several times over the past few days, but she had never behaved like that in her life and had believed the same to be true of Matthew. They had both been thrown into a bizarre set of circumstances and this had affected their conduct, she'd supposed.

Aside from the fact that he'd seemed as if he was genuinely interested in her but then dashed that idea by sleeping with someone else, thereby hurting Mary's pride, Mary was upset for a larger reason. All her life, she'd felt different to her peers. She didn't engage in casual sex and didn't even really kiss people unless she truly had feelings for them. These values were rare in her social circle and the media often speculated about her 'suspicious' lack of action, choosing to fill in the void with their own pairings and stories of late night hook-ups (indeed, Nigel had cited these enraging tabloid stories as one reason for Mary to partake in operation Brangelina, and she'd hoped that the appearance of a boyfriend would shut them up). Within her immediate social circle, by contrast, a reputation had developed that she was frigid and uptight, which hadn't exactly encouraged men to approach her, which in turn perpetuated the problem.

What it came down to was that she thought she'd finally found someone - a man her age, good-looking and with an actual personality - who mirrored her careful approach to romance. It wasn't as if she had been planning on starting a proper relationship with Matthew. That wasn't possible, as she'd been reminding herself on an increasingly regular basis, for some reason... Besides, he got under her skin like nobody else. However, meeting him had made her more optimistic about finding a man who didn't just want to get into her pants and who was put off by the fact that she wasn't willing to let him in there very easily. With the discovery of Matthew's illicit rendezvous, those hopes had crumbled. Perhaps all men were only after one thing. Perhaps that was why Matthew had been so keen on kissing her, and why he had abandoned the thought of her for another woman as soon as she'd put a stop to his attentions on the dancefloor. Perhaps the only man she'd ever find with enough patience for her reservedness would be an unattractive slob with no sense of humour whatsoever.

With that cheery glimpse into her future, Mary got up to fetch herself a soothing cup of tea from the kitchen, noticing glumly that it had begun to drizzle outside.

She wasn't supposed to be living in this old house - it's main function now was to serve as a meeting place for her and Matthew, and the PR teams. Today, though, she wanted to hide. Downing Street was always under scrutiny and she couldn't escape the feeling that she was being watched or monitored in some way, even if she was in one of the back rooms. This house, where she'd grown up, was far more comfortable.

As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed a movement outside the door to the garden, which had glass panelling covered with a thin curtain. For God's sake, was there a photographer stationed outside here now too? Someone must have discovered the secret meeting place. Having started off the day in a bad enough mood, Mary's blood began to boil. She'd been told to always be courteous to the media, but they had crossed her on the wrong day. She stomped over to the door and swung it open, a look of fury on her face.

Her expression temporarily morphed into one of shock as she beheld a thoroughly sheepish Matthew in front of her, before quickly regaining its previous look of anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She bit out. She probably should have just shut the door in his face, but she was curious as to why he had the audacity to show up at her house after what he'd done.

"I, um..." Matthew stammered. Part of him had hoped that she might have cooled down since yesterday, but her eyes told him that she may actually be even more furious. The reason he'd hesitated outside without knocking on the door was because he hadn't quite decided exactly what to say to her. Now, he was going to have to think of something quickly before she locked him out, otherwise he'd lose his chance. "I wanted to apologise." He said sincerely, albeit a little nervously. With the look Mary was giving him right now, he was afraid of being cast into stone by looking directly at her.

Mary looked at him expectantly, but he didn't continue.

Matthew's eyes darted from side to side - he was unsure what to do. Her countenance was unreadable. She was blocking the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Could I come in? Please?" The rain had grown heavier over the last minute and droplets were falling from his hair onto his face.

"I don't see why you can't apologise out here." Mary gestured to the garden. She didn't particularly want him to come inside. It was difficult to know how easily she'd be able to get rid of him once she let him inside the house.

"Oh, erm, OK..." Matthew tried to ignore the cold rain that was trickling down his neck. "I just wanted to say-" Thunder roared directly above the house, making both Matthew and Mary jump. "Erm," Matthew tried to compose himself and continue, but the rain was now beating down so hard that he could barely be heard.

"Just come in." Mary relented, walking back into the kitchen. Matthew paused for a moment to see whether she'd change her mind, and followed her.

He removed his muddy shoes by the door. He considered taking off his sodden hoodie, as he was wearing a T-shirt underneath, but thought better of it. He didn't want to seem too much like he was making himself at home when she clearly didn't want him there. He took out his mobile phone and placed it on the wooden table in the kitchen, to avoid it getting wet from the moisture in his clothes.

"So what did you want to say?" Mary crossed her arms guardedly.

"I wanted to apologise." Matthew sighed. He had compiled quite a list of things to apologise for. "First, for...you know." He found it difficult to mention explicitly without blushing or cringing profusely. "Sleeping with her." He said quietly. "I didn't think. It was probably the least thought-out thing I've ever done. I was in a weird head-space and all I was focused on was having a bit of fun. It was incredibly selfish of me." Matthew deliberately omitted the effect that Mary had had on him, which had induced him into that weird head-space. "I know I put your father's, as well as my own father's, reputation at risk. It's a miracle that Nigel and the others managed to turn it around so that people actually feel sorry for my back problem. I actually got a letter this morning from a man in Birmingham who said he had a similar injury to me." Matthew digressed, but quickly went back on track once he noticed Mary's unimpressed expression. "Anyway - I want you to know that, if the PR guys hadn't been able to think of a cover story, I would have confessed to being a cheater and taken all the blame for it."

Mary frowned. "That wouldn't have helped the Coalition at all."

"No, probably not. But at least it wouldn't have exposed our relationship as a sham, which would damage the government even more." Mary didn't respond to this. She wasn't going to commend him on being noble and sacrificing his reputation when he was the one in the wrong and he was talking about a hypothetical situation. "The second thing I wanted to apologise for was what I said to you yesterday morning - about your love life." Matthew cringed again at the memory of how rude he'd been. "It was out of order and it wasn't my place at all to make judgments about your personal life."

"I presume you received that little nugget of information from Edith?" Mary asked sarcastically, remembering that he had been sat next to Edith at dinner. It was so like Edith to disparage Mary at any given opportunity, particularly to an eligible man.

"Erm, yeah." Matthew replied uneasily, not wishing to involve himself in family politics. There were enough politics to deal with as it was. "But I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was a cheap shot." Not that it was any real excuse, but he'd been sleep-deprived and stressed during their altercation and it had slipped out of his mouth.

Mary nodded almost imperceptibly, just enough to show that she acknowledged his apology.

"Lastly, I want to apologise for kissing you on the dancefloor." Mary tensed automatically at this, but kept her face neutral. Why was he apologising for that? Did he regret it? If he regretted it, did that mean he hadn't done it purely out of duty? "I know it was probably unnecessary and I should have asked you before just diving in." This was the one apology that Matthew wasn't quite sure about. They hadn't planned any of their kisses since the very first one. Yet, in light of the fact that Mary marched out of the club immediately after he kissed her, he supposed it must have irked her in some way.

Mary was momentarily perturbed that he hadn't yet apologised for betraying her feelings by being with another woman. Then she remembered that she'd deliberately concealed the fact that she had feelings, so he wasn't to know.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Matthew asked softly.

The sound of Matthew's ringing phone distracted Mary. She glanced at it, where it sat on the table, and saw the name "Alice" displayed across it. Any iota of empathy she'd felt for Matthew instantly evaporated.

Following her gaze, Matthew's eyes widened in alarm. "That's my estate agent!" He said hastily.

"Oh, give it a rest." Mary hissed, barging past him to hold the door open for him to be drop-kicked out of the house. "You're an absolute pig!"

"No, wait," Matthew held her hand to halt her, "it really is - I'm moving flat."

"Since when?" Mary asked sceptically, ignoring the feel of his fingers clasped around hers.

"Since last night." Matthew blushed slightly. "After the story broke out, my flat was plagued by journalists within an hour or two. God knows how they found my address so quickly, or who gave it to them. Anyway, I spent most of the day forming a barricade against my front door to protect myself. Jacob called me last night to say I should find somewhere else to live, at least for a few weeks, because I won't be left alone as long as the media knows my address." He sighed, reflecting on just how stressful the past day had been. "It's an unfortunate coincidence that the estate agent that Jacob found me happens to share the name of the reason I have to move in the first place."

"I think _you_ are as much the reason that you have to move as she is, if not more." Mary wasn't about to let him shirk responsibility for any of what had happened.

Matthew nodded in acceptance. He closed his eyes briefly, debating how much to say. Deciding it was best to be perfectly honest, both to atone for what he'd done and to ensure that they kept any future arguments to a minimum, he said, "I should probably mention - I'm an only child and I was rather spoilt by my parents...I was quite a precocious child so I hardly ever did any wrong in their eyes." He could see Mary frowning in confusion at this random tangent that he was embarking upon. "What I'm trying to say is...I guess I sometimes find it difficult to accept responsibility for my own stupidity, because I'm not used to behaving irresponsibly. But I now realise the full extent of my idiocy."

Mary appraised him for a moment. He did seem genuinely contrite and his apologies were delivered sincerely. "I suppose I shouldn't have called you a 'pig'." She shrugged with one shoulder, her way of accepting his apology. "Although you still are a bit of a pig."

"More like a piglet, you mean?" Matthew asked, his mouth curving up in a smirk. Mary stifled a chuckle at his stupid joke, unsure why she found it amusing in the first place. She still didn't want to seem too friendly towards him. "Look, I know you probably still don't like me very much." Matthew said more seriously, as if reading her mind. "Which is fine – you're entitled to dislike me. I just hope you know that I am sorry, and hope that you can trust me not to balls this up again." He looked at her imploringly, his eyes so blue that it took a moment for her to register what he'd said. He should have been a lawyer, she thought. Any judge and jury would find it impossible to resist a face that handsome and earnest.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you, won't I? The same way I just have to go along with whatever else is thrown at me." Mary said rather bitterly. Her whole life had been one long string of constraints and orders: "Go to this school, Mary", "Go to this university, Mary", "Spend your life as a socialite, Mary – your beauty and social skills would be wasted in an office job", "Let this man take you out for dinner, Mary", and now, "This is your new fake boyfriend, Mary". She looked up and could see the concern in Matthew's eyes. Sensing he was about to try to talk to her about it, she quickly interjected – he may have opened up a bit to her but there was nothing compelling her to do the same and she wasn't going to volunteer her inner feelings to him. "Anyway, we're fine." She smiled placidly at him. "I hear there's an event at Claridge's in a couple of days that we're supposed to go to?"

Matthew smiled widely in relief. In spite of what he'd said, he did actually want Mary to like him. He wasn't sure why, given that she hadn't exactly been friendly or kind to him, but there it was. "Yeah, there is. Shall I come by at about 7.30?" He asked tentatively, unsure whether she would allow him to pick her up.

"Sounds good." Mary nodded.

...

"I'm still a bit confused as to what this event is." Matthew said out of the side of his mouth as they walked past the small ensemble of classical musicians.

"It's a networking evening, essentially." Mary replied, leading him towards the bar. "The invitees are all young professionals or public figures of some sort."

"So we're supposed to spend the whole night brown-nosing?" Matthew asked unenthusiastically.

"As if we do anything else." Mary said pointedly, and Matthew smiled. He was about to try to catch the bartender's attention when he heard Mary let out a small gasp.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It's Megan!" Mary whispered excitedly. Matthew followed her line of sight and, sure enough, there was Megan McDonald at the other end of the bar, awkwardly standing by a group of people who were chatting animatedly.

"Do you think Michael will be here?" Matthew asked, glancing around.

"No, the event's for under-35s only, remember?" Mary said impatiently.

"Well, that's no good, then." Matthew turned back to the bartender.

An idea had struck Mary, however. As Matthew opened his mouth to order a Malibu and Coke for Mary and a Vodka and lemonade for himself, Mary butted in. "Six Jaegerbombs, please."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at her. "Keeping it classy, are we?" He teased. "I'm not really in the mood for three Jaegerbombs, I'm afraid."

"You're not having three Jaegerbombs." Mary retorted. "You're having two Jaegerbombs." She placed two of the glasses that the bartender gave her in front of him. "And I'm having two Jaegerbombs." She placed two glasses in front of herself. "And Megan McDonald is having two Jaegerbombs." A cunning smile spread across her face.

Matthew observed her for a moment. "You're trying to get her drunk so that she spills the beans, aren't you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm doing." Mary was a little put out that he didn't sound more impressed.

"And you're planning on doing this by recreating Freshers' week?" With a smirk, Matthew nodded his head towards the little shot glasses floating in a larger glass of Red Bull. He found it quite endearing how keen Mary was on investigating this matter.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you want to get to the bottom of this or not?"

Matthew nodded in acceptance of her scheme.

"Good. You wait here with the drinks and I'll go and get Megan. I know you're a womaniser but I think it makes more sense for me to fetch her." Mary said over her shoulder, knowing it would make Matthew cringe again.

* * *

_A/N: well, the last chapter certainly divided opinions! Thankfully the majority of you enjoyed the spanner in the works, but I completely understand where the rest of you are coming from. I hope this chapter demonstrated how it was out of character for Matthew to act so unthinkingly. I was going to make this chapter longer but I don't know if I'll have time to finish off the rest of the event at Claridge's until next week or so, and I didn't want to make you wait longer!_

_Another note about reviews - please don't be negative towards other reviewers. I'd rather receive fewer reviews than receive ones that are unnecessarily rude (particularly if they're anonymous and don't even want to be identified in any way)._

_So, has Mary really forgiven him? Does Matthew acknowledge that he has any feelings for her? Maybe we'll find out next time?_

_Thanks so much for reading! xxx _


	7. Chapter 7

Two Jaegerbombs and a double vodka and lemonade later, and Megan McDonald was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol that Lady Mary Crawley and Matthew Crawley had so kindly bought her.

"Thanks so much for spending time with me!" She beamed at them. "Nobody's really taken the time to speak to me ever since my appointment was announced. I seem to have angered a lot of people by being appointed - even people in my own party."

Mary nodded encouragingly. It had taken them a while to cajole her into joining them for drinks, and then a while longer to persuade her that they should get her another drink. But the wait was worth it. This was exactly the path she'd wanted the conversation to go down. "I'd noticed." She said with faux-sympathy. "I suppose a lot of people expected one of the veteran politicians to get the post. Just how _did_ you manage to secure the position at such a young age?" She asked interestedly. Matthew didn't miss the shrewd glint in her eye.

"Ah, Mary!" The nasal tones of a young man in an outfit that inexplicably involved a gilet interrupted the conversation.

"Edmund, hello." Mary smiled as politely as she could while concealing her utter annoyance. She could have been on the brink of a revelation. "Matthew, Megan, this is Edmund - his father and my father are old family friends." She explained after accepting Edmund's friendly kiss on the cheek.

"Pleased to meet you both." Edmund said. "Mary, won't you come and say hello to Luciana and Frederich - they haven't seen you in years!"

Mary had little choice but to spend time with Edmund and his siblings - their father was a prominent backbencher in the National Party, and she had to do what she could to keep the family in her family's good graces. She let Edmund lead the way but paused to murmur to Matthew. "Keep going - I reckon another shot of vodka should do it."

"OK, but I might order some food too, so it doesn't look like I'm just plying her with drinks." Matthew whispered back, keeping an eye on Megan who was checking her phone.

"No - no food!" Mary commanded. "We don't want anything to soak up the alcohol! She needs to be drunk as soon as possible."

Matthew stared at her. "You're terrifying, you know that?"

Mary rolled her eyes and walked away to catch up with Edmund.

...

It was a full fifty minutes before Mary was able to extricate herself from the conversation. It had been a while since she'd seen Edmund's brother and sister and they were keen to catch up and find out the gossip about her relationship with Matthew. The topic had attracted the attention of several other guests, and Mary quickly found herself chairing an impromptu conference on the matter.

Thankfully, she was able to use her lovey-dovey relationship as an excuse to leave, claiming that she wanted to go and find Matthew.

"Mary! My girlfriend!" Matthew called out to her loudly from where he was sat at a table with several other guests. "Come and join us."

Knowing that she would need to speak to Matthew discreetly, and taking advantage of the fact that there weren't any seats left around the table, Mary perched herself on Matthew's thigh.

"Hello," She smiled sweetly at him and dropped a small kiss on his lips. He kissed her back sloppily. "Are you alright?" She asked, noticing the slightly dopey smile on his face.

"Perfectly fine!" Matthew replied cheerily. He tried to kiss her again but missed his target by an inch or so, resulting in him licking the side of her mouth.

"How much have you had to drink?" Mary whispered, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Perhaps he'd had to buy Megan (and therefore himself) several more drinks before she would be open enough to talk about how she got the job?

"I only had another Vodka shot after you left." He replied, pulling her body closer to him so that she was sat higher up on his thigh. He began placing kisses along her jaw.

"You're drunk on two Jaegerbombs and three shots of Vodka, including mixers? Over the space of two hours?" Mary asked quietly. She didn't drink heavily herself but it struck her as a little bit lightweight for a man of his stature.

"Mmm..." Was Matthew's only reply as he continued his slightly clumsy affections.

"Did you get any information?" Mary whispered, eager to find out.

Matthew drew back briefly, a concentrated frown on his face. "Something about her aunt...and, er, lobbying, or something..." He mumbled, his head dropping back to her neck.

It wasn't particularly helpful feedback, but it was something. Before Mary could work out what exactly it might mean, however, she was distracted.

"Matthew, darling," Mary bit out, trying not to seem outwardly irritated, "you're being a little bit…handsy." She placed her strong grip around Matthew's right hand, which was currently roaming up her bare leg and threatening to slide underneath the hem of her dress.

"You're just so pretty," Matthew said as he nuzzled her neck. "Gorgeous."

Mary felt herself flush at his attentions. She cast a demure smile at all the women around the table who were sighing with jealousy, hearing one angrily ask her boyfriend why he was never that romantic with her.

"You're so lucky, Lady Mary." One woman said. "He seems so besotted with you. I couldn't get my boyfriend's attention if I taped his Xbox controls to my naked body and poured champagne over myself." She scoffed. "_I _never believed that Matthew cheated on you, in spite of what the tabloids said."

Mary tensed. Nobody had mentioned the alleged affair this evening, even to dismiss it.

"Good!" Matthew interjected. "Because I didn't cheat on her. I _couldn't_ cheat on her."

The women around the table mistook his firm tone as a declaration of the strength of his love, rather than an admission that they weren't actually going out, and sighed again wistfully. Worried that Matthew's tipsy state might lead him to blurt out more thoughts that should probably be internalised, Mary quickly rose from his lap and held his hand. "Come on, Matthew. Let's step outside for a second - it's getting far too warm in here." She bluffed, seeking any excuse to get Matthew alone somewhere so that he could sober up a little.

She found a small, dimly-lit nook where there were a few tables and sofas with nobody seated at them - she supposed they were intended for later in the evening when people were tired and wanted to go somewhere quiet. Tugging Matthew's hand, she encouraged him to sit down on one of the sofas.

"You need to sober up." Mary said firmly, sitting down beside him. She'd fetched a glass of water on their way over and she now set it down in front of him.

"I'm only a little bit tipsy." Matthew said defensively, glugging the water down nevertheless. He put the glass back down and smiled at her. He shuffled a little closer and leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek, lingering there and beginning to trail kisses towards her lips.

"Matthew," Mary pushed at his shoulder, annoyed with his behaviour. "No wonder you ended up bedding a random woman if this is how you get after a few drinks." She muttered. If he thought he could treat her like another conquest, then he had another thing coming.

Matthew moved away, frowning as he looked at her. "For your information, I was thinking of you for a lot of it." He blurted out.

Mary stilled. "What?" She asked, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Matthew merely grabbed the glass of water again and started taking swigs from it.

"God, I need to pee." He said suddenly, standing up and wandering away, leaving a startled Mary in his wake.

'_I was thinking of you for a lot of it?_' What the hell did that mean?! She supposed he could have meant that he'd thought of her while he was drinking...but that didn't quite make sense, particularly in the context of her comment.

Mary stood up and made her way back to the main event, for some reason with a slight spring in her step as she did so.

...

A couple of days later, Matthew and Mary were going for a stroll around some of the residential streets in Chelsea, after having stopped at a restaurant for a spot of lunch. A small gaggle of paparazzi soon accumulated - it was the first time that paparazzi had been able to get close to them since Matthew's scandal erupted, as all photographs at the Claridge's event had been taken from a distance within a very controlled environment. This, however, was public property and the men behind the cameras could be as invasive as they wished.

"Stay close." Matthew murmured to Mary, a frown settling over his features as the men edged ever closer to them, practically surrounding them on the pavement. He'd heard stories of paparazzi deliberately doing things to provoke their targets and he didn't want Mary to be subjected to anything untoward.

"How did you feel about the picture, Lady Mary?" One man called to her, alluding to the picture of Matthew and Alice that had been splashed across dozens of newspapers and websites. "Do you really believe he got nothing more than a massage from such a buxom blonde?"

"Ignore them." Mary muttered, sensing Matthew's body tense next to her. She kept her focus on trying to keep moving forward in spite of the people around them. Her old house was a five-minute walk away, but she didn't want them to know that it was still in use. The only option to rid themselves of these pests was to hail a cab and drive off somewhere.

"Do you trust him, Lady Mary?" Another asked. "Do you have trust issues generally?"

Mary felt Matthew's hand rest protectively on the small of her back. Peering over at him discreetly, she saw his jaw set and his eyes piercing in a hard stare at the photographer who had just spoken. He appeared to be losing his cool, she noticed worriedly.

"She must do," Another one piped up, shoving his camera directly in their faces, "from what we've heard, she's either been sleeping around with every rich bloke in England or sat at home alone with her cats!" He goaded, prompting jeers from the others and heightened clicking as they all sought to capture her angry reaction.

Her reaction, however, was more concerned than angry - she could almost feel the fury emanating from Matthew.

Matthew stopped walking abruptly, his expression stony. He turned to the last photographer who had spoken. "Leave her alone." His posture had changed, Mary noticed; he was standing much taller, his shoulders and chest seeming broader than normal. His voice was low and strong, almost threatening. She'd seen him worked up before, but never like this.

"Why should I?" The man replied eagerly, happy to see that he had elicited a reaction from one of them. "She's grown up in the public eye - she's made herself public property. She's fair game, mate." He said from behind his camera, which was still clicking away mere inches from Matthew's face.

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said slowly, as if trying to rein in his anger.

"Don't take it out on me, mate - you've either got a girlfriend who everyone else has already been in, or one who doesn't know what she's doing. I'd have gone astray if I were you, too!"

The photographer was barely able to let out a laugh at his own comment before Matthew's fist made contact squarely with his jaw.

"Matthew!" Mary exclaimed as she watched the man tumble backwards from the force of the hit, the other men doing nothing but stepping aside as he fell and documenting the fall with their lenses. Matthew ignored her, his whole body tensed and his fist still clenched. The other photographers were going mad, the camera flashes somehow even more rapid than before. "Let's go." She said, hastily grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her, taking advantage of the fact that the other men were still distracted by their fallen comrade. She turned the corner and went up to a small garden, which was for keyholders only. She quickly dug the key out from her handbag and let them in, leading Matthew to the middle of it. At least they could hide in here, amongst the foliage, while their pursuers gave up trying to find them. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all.

"I'm fine, you don't need to hold my hand." Matthew said stubbornly, removing his hand from her grasp. The anger hadn't faded from his expression.

"You mustn't let this get to you so much, Matthew." Mary said, observing him. "This sort of behaviour is common these days. You can't let them affect your own conduct." God knew how the papers would react to this latest development, but she wasn't going to bring that up now, not when Matthew was already so incensed.

"It's just disappointing to think that people can be so unfeeling." Matthew replied, clearly still perturbed by the experience. "I can't believe your father allows this."

Mary scoffed. "Well, what can he do? Outlaw the free press? Ban people from owning cameras?"

Matthew shook his head. "No - I mean allowing you to spend your life as a socialite and be constantly hounded by these bastards."

Now Mary was set on edge. "He didn't 'allow' me to do anything." She said sternly. "It's not like it was my dream to spend the formative years of my life attending parties with the same vacuous people and I had to convince him to let me do so."

"So he forced you into it?" Matthew asked sceptically. He doubted Robert would be so conservative as to dictate the course of his daughter's life. "Look, it doesn't matter whose decision it was, but it's a bloody stupid one. You heard what that guy said - they all think you're public property because of your lifestyle! How can you put up with them denigrating you like that?"

If Mary hadn't been brought up to master the art of self-restraint, she would have thumped Matthew in the same way he'd hit the photographer.

"What I do with my life is none of your business." She said sternly. "I don't judge you by your choices, do I?"

"Don't you?" Matthew challenged. "I know you like to pretend that you're the only one who gets judged by their appearance, but I'm pretty damned sure that you weren't too thrilled when you first saw me in my battered Converse." He said firmly.

It was difficult for Mary to respond to this. He had a fair point, to her frustration.

"And I'd wager that you weren't exactly indifferent when you were told that I was an accountant." Matthew continued.

"Fine - maybe I did judge you." Mary relented. "But I never voiced it, did I? You, on the other hand, are trying to advise me to change my life when you know very little about it."

"Is there much more to know besides the fact that you attend parties draped in designer clothes and get gossiped about? And that all this is sanctioned by a supposedly modern politician?" Matthew asked bluntly. Her countenance grew even more displeased as he spoke, and he realised he was treading a very fine line between being concerned and speaking out of turn. Perhaps he'd already crossed that line. "All I'm saying is that I think it's in your control to change this." He said more calmly, gesturing behind him to where he presumed the paparazzi were awaiting their return.

"I think you need to do your research a little bit more before you start getting too self-righteous." Mary said, making it clear that she didn't appreciate his comments. What made him think that he had any entitlement whatsoever to voice his thoughts about her situation? He'd been a presence in her life for less than three weeks. Granted, he'd been much more exposed to the behind-the-scenes workings of her world than most people, but it wasn't enough for him to make calls on what was and wasn't within her control. As if it had never occurred to her that she might be able to improve her situation!

Matthew looked at her for a few moments. "Alright," he conceded, "I'm sorry." There wasn't much conviction behind what his apology and Mary presumed it was a mere courtesy to stop them from arguing any longer.

"I'm sorry, too." She offered quietly. He looked surprised. "For judging you. I suppose it was rather hypocritical of me. Although you really do need some new shoes." She added in an attempt to lighten the mood. She didn't like arguing with him - not seriously, anyway. Besides, as much as it peeved her that he tried to impose his uninformed views on her, it was somewhat comforting to know that somebody actually cared about her to some extent. In fact, he was probably the first person she'd ever met who had tried to protect her from the bad parts of her life. "And thank you for standing up to that photographer."

At this, Matthew's expression finally softened. "Any time." He replied, and Mary could tell that he truly meant it.

...

_A/N: sorry for the slight delay in updates! I'd had this chapter partly-written for ages but only just sat down to finish it off. I know a couple of you remarked that you wanted more of Mary's back-story - honestly, I'd been meaning to elaborate on this a few chapters back, around the garden party chapters, but then got distracted by other things and it kept getting pushed back. This will be explored in more detail later on, but I wanted to include a little allusion to it here. I hope that it was alright! Please let me know your thoughts and thanks so much for your continued support xxx_


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